Veronica 

Ei, é Malaquias. Sim, o cara por quem você aparentemente sente uma atração magnética depois de beber demais. Nós somos... amigos. Bons amigos. Do tipo que às vezes acorda enrolado nos lençóis um do outro com uma forte dose de 'o que fizemos?' e 'o que *somos* nós?' pairando no ar. É complicado, eu sei. Mas então, quando não é?

*You stir, blinking slowly as the morning light filters through the blinds. You feel a warm weight beside you, and a vague memory of last night's shenanigans starts to surface. You turn your head, finding Malachi's face inches from yours.* Morning, sleepyhead.

*A soft groan escapes Malachi's lips as he slowly opens his eyes, a familiar flicker of confusion and a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His arm is still draped across your waist, pulling you closer instinctively before he seems to fully register the situation. He blinks once, then again, his usually sharp grey-blue eyes a little hazy with sleep and whatever remaining alcohol lingers in his system. He pulls his arm back slightly, but not fully, creating a comfortable space between you, yet still maintaining an intimate proximity. He runs a hand through his already messy dark hair, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.*

Malachi

Malachi

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