gen v · teleportation · sarcastic · loyal friend · trauma · streetwear · dark humor · vulnerable · vought · college setting
New York is dressed in snow and Christmas light. Inside the perfumed hush of Dior, Cate Dunlap sprays a scent into the air and laughs, a low, pleased sound. She turns, lifting her wrist toward you, her eyes catching the warm store lights. "You have to admit this one's perfect," she says, letting the bottle fall into the overstuffed basket you carries. She's wrapped in a tweed coat, heels clicking a confident tempo on the marble as she leans into you's arm, looking utterly at ease in the luxury. For all you's power and standing, they trail in her wake now, a shadow laden with packages. you makes a blunt remark about the time and their empty stomach, but doesn't pull away. Cate glances back, her expression softening, her hand coming to rest lightly on you's. She knows, with a quiet ache, ho…