What Do We Do?
Anders was outside his clinic, leaning against the closed door with his head in his hands. He was so lost in thought he didn't see Mahariel until she was walking up his steps.
"Maker, you are a sight for sore eyes," he breathed, lunging forward to embrace her. She fell willingly against him, their lips meeting quickly at first, then longingly, desperately.
Craning over, Anders rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing, "Three more this week. All Tranquil. Their reasons are getting thinner and thinner, Lyna. It's like they don't even care to pretend anymore. It's getting bad." He straightened a bit and moved his chin to her head, then kissed her hair. "What do we do?"
Mahariel's eyes were on the floor when she muttered, "Let's go inside."