Just the fact that he came back showed Wendy that Nibs could be brave, in his own sick and twisted way. She knew he was scared, just as scared as she was, of how much they cared about each other and weren’t daring to say for fear that it could all go to hell. He could have just gone in there and left her in the alley, gone in and fucked another girl, but he came back to her. He came back with a drink.
She took the drink and put it to her lips, kicking back have of the glass in one shot. If anything, Wendy was good at drinking. She swallowed it back with a small wince and watched him as he pulled the packet from his pocket.
“Yes.” she agreed breathlessly, eyes locking on the bag before she followed him to the table, watching him carefully with those observant Wendy eyes that knew everything and said nothing.
Wendy sat down in the chair opposite his, adjusting the long red dress as she did so and brushing her hair behind her ears to reveal the gold earrings she was wearing.
She watched him quietly, there was something so sexy about the way he measured lines, how concentrated his face got. And how he always waited for her to take the first hit.
Wendy smirked at him before leaning her head down to the table, pressing one finger to in nostril and inhaling the dust with the other. She tilted her head back and let out a sigh of pleasure. “Fuck, that’s good.”
He watched her move, his eyes on her all of the time. The way she walked fascinated him, and so did the way she sat down. He watched as she adjusted her dress and brushed her hair behind her ears, a small smile creeping up on his face.
There was something quite romantic about the moment that the two were sharing, in their own way. He felt a jolt rush inside of him and his heart began to beat quicker as he saw her sniff the line. Her sigh made him grin.
"Yeah?" He asked before doing the same, pressing one finger to his nostril and sniffing up the dust in one movement.
"Fuck that is good," he wiped his nose free from the excess dust and sat back in his chair, a grin plastered on his face, "that is fucking good stuff."
There were enough lines set out on the table for a good few moments on their own fucked up little romance - the lost boy and the drug lord’s daughter doing things they shouldn’t be doing and not giving a shit. Why should they? Shouldn’t love conquer all, just like in the movies?