And you're always dwelling around that cliff, because she's soso young.
For a moment he's afraid she's going to fall. Terribly, terribly afraid. She peers over the edge - pleasedon'tfall pleasedon'tfall - and becomes bored. "What do you find so great about cliff diving?" Her brown eyes pierce his, and his momentary gush of paranoia has dissolved. She would find cliff diving boring.
"The rush," he answers, leaning against a forest tree. His eyes never leave her figure as she traces the outer edge of the cliff with her bare feet. "Put some shoes on," he wants to say, "You could step on a rock..."
But he knows the reply would be, same as always, "Quit being such a parent, Quill."
"Are all wolves adrenaline junkies?"
"Just the cool ones," he assures her with a smirk.
She stares blankly back, "Then what's your excuse?"
They continue to stare at each other, before she breaks. Her poker face compeletely demolished by the amused smile that lights up her whole face, and she topples onto the ground in a fit of giggles.
He would laugh, too, because she was just so happy, but she was really, really, really close to the edge of the cliff, and oh God, what if she fell? "Claire," he warns.
She notices the tone, the look, everything about his now tense posture. Claire rolls her eyes, "God. Quit being such a parent, Quill."
Taking in her olive skin, big brown eyes, and not-so-little-anymore curves, he honestly wishes he could.
AN
Yay or nay?