𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦

eight

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad.

...Fine, it's going horribly.

Temperance was doing well in her job of writing the report, and Gluttony was miserably failing in the research department. He guessed that working together like this when he's desperate for any sort of reconciliation between them was incredibly, absolutely, extremely, very much stupid.

Gluttony was gazing at Temperance instead of doing his work in science, imprinting her limpid green eyes into his memory.

He's not sure why. He's memorized the exact color hundreds of years ago, even before she had a human form. All of her forms has that shade of green.

"Gluttony?"

"Yeah?" he said, snapping back to reality.

Temperance had tied her hair back so that it wouldn't get in her way, and it honestly made her look prettier. Usually her thick and long hair would obscure some parts of her face, but when she tied it up, Gluttony could see all parts of her face.

God, he's such a sap.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "You don't look too healthy."

"No, no, I'm fine," he reassured Temperance. "I can do the lab work."

He was not fine, but he was fine enough to work. As fine as someone could be when they're coughing up flower petals.

Temperance looked unsure, but she faced her work again and so did Gluttony. This time, he was determined to focus on he project and the project only. Nobo—nothing else but the project, and the project only.

Gluttony didn't succeed, as expected. All he can think of is green. Not Envy's shade of green, not anybody else's shade of green but Temperance's. He guessed he'd be haunted by it until he somehow died. He didn't mind.