[Oh, he agrees. Miserable. Ryder peeks behind, covering herself until she can make the trade and get herself dressed. As she flips the hood up, she has to admit that it doesn't smell great. Smells pretty bad, actually, after the soap and shampoo they've been able to enjoy lately. Ah, life. Life stinks. This situation stinks.
...Comfortable, though, and even though she feels an astral projected version of herself strangling her whenever she looks over to his pocket, she has to admit -- quietly, only to herself -- that wearing the hoodie of a guy she likes is a fantasy she'd given up on a long time ago. It makes her stomach flutter with more than nausea. Gosh, she's such a freaky loser.]
Not -- how I imagined it. [Oh dear, she's gone red again, if she ever stopped. Don't admit to imagining him asking you to undress, stupid!] Um. S'fine. If it -- helps. That's what -- I wanted.
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...Comfortable, though, and even though she feels an astral projected version of herself strangling her whenever she looks over to his pocket, she has to admit -- quietly, only to herself -- that wearing the hoodie of a guy she likes is a fantasy she'd given up on a long time ago. It makes her stomach flutter with more than nausea. Gosh, she's such a freaky loser.]
Not -- how I imagined it. [Oh dear, she's gone red again, if she ever stopped. Don't admit to imagining him asking you to undress, stupid!] Um. S'fine. If it -- helps. That's what -- I wanted.