![[Image: 500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/75f6/f/2017/192/d/5/500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png)
" BEXLEY BRIAR "
It’s only now that she notices the discrepancy in his eyes as he tilts one closer toward her - the iris a glowing carmine, while what she can see of the other one is milky and off-white, lined on both sides by a long, grayish scar. Her nostrils flare with unsubtle curiosity. Of all injuries to sustain, Bexley thinks blindness must be one of the worst, speaking as someone who operates primarily on aesthetics. Moving across the landscape of scars on the man’s body, her intimidation fades out completely, replaced by interest. Without bothering to conceal her stare, she tilts her head in patient wait of his response. The chain around her neck jingles and lilts.
It’s probably because I never said my name - Leviathan. Oh, a smart-ass! So he’s a man after her own heart, someone with a sharp tongue to match his looks. The smile on Bex’s face goes wider. She likes the look of him - that self-assured smile, the way he answers her calmly, with confidence, unshaken by Bexley’s outer fragility or her preppy, overenthusiastic way of communicating. Fits, she says honestly. A huge, hulking thing like him - what a simple pleasure it is to be named in a way that makes sense. Are you from here? Like, natively?
Not that it matters, really, but Bexley is opportunistic, calculating, and what she wants to ask shouldn’t be brought up so soon. The gaze settled on him is calm and unreadable. A quick decision made, she steps lightly past him into the shadow of a looming column, purposefully orchestrating a barely-there brush of their shoulders, and continues casually, Lotta scars you got there. Those deep blue eyes move back to watch him, but they glint with humor, and her tone is light enough that he should know it’s a compliment.
@Leviathan <33
