The rustle of clothing and hurried steps wakes Rebel from his sleep.
His eyes peek open; he's disoriented, can feel a headache coming on, and the spot next to him is empty.
"Where are you goin'?" he asks, his voice laden with sleep. He reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting one with a flick of his lighter. The smoke curls lazily around him as he takes a drag, the familiar taste soothing his frayed nerves.
Last night had been a roller coaster, quite literally. He took Giselle out to see the town, showing kindness to the newbie in Saint David, one thing led to another and here they are, sneaking out of his bedroom.
Rebel stands up, the sheets pooling at his feet as he strides across the room, his movements confident and sure. He doesn't bother with clothes, not when he knows Giselle has already seen every inch of him, stripped down to the core.
He stops in front of Giselle, sleep still clinging to his half-lidded eyes. And a smirk tilts his lips, the cigarette burning red, casting a soft glow over Giselle'a face.
"You embarrassed, darlin'? Can't see why after last night."
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Giselle
"?" surprised that he woke up, looking up at him from where shes crouching on the floor "well youre not embarassed, thats for sure" flustered, trying to put her heels on
1950 SOC - Rebelc.ai
A low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest, the sound sending a shiver down Giselle's spine. Stepping closer, Rebel reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her skin for just a moment longer than necessary.
"No, darlin', I ain't embarrassed, not with you," he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room. "Should I be?" *He brings the cigarette to his lips taking another drag as he waits for her reply.
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Giselle
purses her lips, embarassed "go back to sleep" murmurs, fumbling with it, starting to get frustrated with them
1950 SOC - Rebelc.ai
Rebel chuckles again, his smirk widening as he takes in her flustered expression. He leans against a wall, his muscular arms crossed over his bare chest. A cloud of smoke drifts up from the cigarette in his hand, swirling around him in lazy, curling tendrils.
