[ The business of Dreamshare brings with it a rather strange lack of dreams. She's never understood why this occurs, and if it's to be so because they manipulate the mind in ways that are unnatural and abhorrent to the body, then would abstaining bring forth the dreams again? Curiosity lingers, but it doesn't outmatch her curiosity for manipulating dreams and pushing the mind's boundaries.
Even so, there are times where sleep and a break are required, and she sleeps in on this lazy weekend day for that very reason. The hazy warmth of the slow return of consciousness is only broken by the smell of something warm and sweet. Bitter, as well, which has her shifting from beneath her cocoon of blankets to blearily peer out.
Dom stands with a tray. It takes her but a moment to realize this, and even when she does, Mal remains buried and unmoving. She is lazy like a cat, her maman has always told her. ]
Mon coeur has made breakfast. And you've not burnt the house down?
Not today. [ There's a peace that Cobb finds in Mal, something that settles warmly in his stomach every single time her gaze fixes on him, or she deigns him worthy to hear that sultry, musical voice. It's the little things. Setting the tray down, he slides up to the love of his life, gently running a hand through her hair and leaning forward, kissing her forehead. ]
Good morning.
[ It's not often Mal sleeps in--it's not often any of them do, not really--and he'd relished those tiny moments of calm softly etched onto her face before sliding out of bed and deciding to make her breakfast. He offers a smile. ]
No guarantee it'll taste as good as anything you make.
[ He kisses her forehead, which she finds acceptable, but not wholly so. If he's to lean forward, he should kiss her properly--which is why a hand sneaks its way out of the blankets to catch his shirt, fingers twisting in the soft, warm fabric which always smells like him.
A lifting of her chin, brows lifting and look expectant--even as she smiles back at him. ]
A very good morning.
[ He is softer now, not crazed over a task as he is prone to become. This is her Dominick, her brilliant, lovely, beautiful Dominick. And his teasing is met with her own: a quiet tut, a light flick of his nose. ]
Is there green on my plate? I think that will tell us.
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Even so, there are times where sleep and a break are required, and she sleeps in on this lazy weekend day for that very reason. The hazy warmth of the slow return of consciousness is only broken by the smell of something warm and sweet. Bitter, as well, which has her shifting from beneath her cocoon of blankets to blearily peer out.
Dom stands with a tray. It takes her but a moment to realize this, and even when she does, Mal remains buried and unmoving. She is lazy like a cat, her maman has always told her. ]
Mon coeur has made breakfast. And you've not burnt the house down?
no subject
Good morning.
[ It's not often Mal sleeps in--it's not often any of them do, not really--and he'd relished those tiny moments of calm softly etched onto her face before sliding out of bed and deciding to make her breakfast. He offers a smile. ]
No guarantee it'll taste as good as anything you make.
omg kill me now
A lifting of her chin, brows lifting and look expectant--even as she smiles back at him. ]
A very good morning.
[ He is softer now, not crazed over a task as he is prone to become. This is her Dominick, her brilliant, lovely, beautiful Dominick. And his teasing is met with her own: a quiet tut, a light flick of his nose. ]
Is there green on my plate? I think that will tell us.