[ a tiny snicker. the full service she's used to was granted quite excessively at the loft in which she was currently staying— room service was more like a full on bed and breakfast, at any time of the day. money was never something she had to worry about, and sure, often it was taken advantage of. what girl would pass down a bottle of crisp champagne and a silken robe left at the bed's edge?

as the saying goes, money doesn't buy you happiness. or safety. or the guarantee that you'll make it out alive. ]   That's a much different wake up than I'm used to.

[ she takes the burger that's handed to her, curling her legs up indian style atop the couch and settling it at her calves, unfolding the wrapper. it was something to hold her gaze rather than meeting his, the kindness that emanated from them, the worry so similar to the one she'd found when he'd pulled her out of that lake. i want you here.

but why should he? — a bite is taken, undoubtedly enjoyed. there was no other option with pops. a low hum, before she's peering in his direction. ]   Okay, that entirely depends on what cereal we're talking.