Poisoned Waters | ✓

|𝟐𝟐| "𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐭"

   "𝐒𝐎, you just walk in?" Monet questioned, as she followed Zara into Noah's house. He had been completely unreachable for a while, after their date-like excursion into Canary Wharf. Zara, trying to find something to get her mind off the stress that Mackenzie was giving her, decided to have Monet join her while she went to bother Noah.

   "The idiot doesn't ever shut his door properly, let alone lock it. I always end up being able to open it with ease." she shrugged, politely holding the front door for her. Monet hummed, basking in the reminiscent feeling of being back in Noah's home. Apart from that, the house was silent.

   Zara looked around, "Hm, he's probably in the loft," She darted up the stairs in quick jumps.

   "The loft?" Monet followed, "Why?"

   With her question left to be rhetorical, Zara climbed the ladder, breaking the Blues atmosphere with the creak of each step.

   "Oh, Reid," she grunted. "You and your fucking arse!" Monet climbed the ladder. The sight of the loft made her gasp loudly.

   The small space was beautifully decorated with different assortments of artistic mediums. The light from the little skylight near the drawing table accentuated the light walls, as well as the bold colours used for his finished paintings. The soft melody of the record player flowed in the background, giving the whole area a tranquil ambience.

   "Bruv," she exhaled. Noah blinked in shock at the additional party. "this is amazing. You paint?" she looked at him in awe, finally coming to realise that he was naked, and her mouth went dry. The apron was barely doing any justice.

   "I actually just wanted to paint in peace, you know," he tried to refrain his hysterical chuckle.

   "Well, we came to play cards. A little Blackjack won't hurt." Zara grinned, Noah looked nowhere near amused. "Oh, come on, Reid, please!" she continued a long serenade of pleas and Noah shook his head.

   His eyes floated over to Monet, who seemed like she hadn't recovered from what she'd walked into. Though, when she noticed his stare, she gently smiled; which made his heartbeat flutter. He exhaled, maintaining contact, and answered, "Fine, Zee, fine."

   She cheered, throwing her arms around him—and by the way she held on tighter was enough to know that she was enjoying it way too much. "Zara, okay," Noah lowly chuckled and pried her off.

   "I smell whiskey, where's your open bottle?" She scoured the room and Noah's attention finally rested on Monet.

   She edged forward, "Sorry for gate-crashing." Despite being extremely against it moments before, he was smiling about it.

   "Well, sometimes you can use the company." he shrugged, separately recalling the night they'd fallen asleep together. He let his eyes take the lead before his hands got any ideas—frankly, it was mutual.

   "You go hard with a paintbrush, though, this is beautiful." she complimented, inspecting the finished canvases in the corner.

   Noah followed, "Thank you. I don't really like people knowing, but apparently it's Zara's secret to tell."

   Zara pulled the whiskey bottle from her lips, "An artiste should be praised for their pieces. I just made this place into an exhibition, innit, you should be thnaking me. I take payment through hugs and kisses." Monet chuckled, as Noah rolled his eyes and said nothing more. "At least get some underwear on, so we can play. You're walking around like a hired stripper." Zara demanded. He grunted, moving to his divider and getting dressed.

   Both girls watched him walk, unknowing of the other. Soon, silence fell. Zara continued to sip his whiskey, while Monet's eyes wandered the room with intrigue.