I wrote this mostly in a car outside a pub restaurant in Edinburgh. It seems the break worked wonders for my muse; however, now I'm home, she seems to have returned to hibernation. Encouragement is always welcomed! Again, I own precisely nothing, though the words are my own.
x. argue
Sometimes, Stella can't help herself. Sometimes, she just wants to push and push until he snaps, until his green eyes blaze and his voice hardens with barely restrained fury. She knows he'll always do the honourable thing and she'll fight him all the way just to get a reaction.
She watched him stumble through the aftermath of his wife's death on autopilot; it barely seemed to register that her presence at his side had ceased. Sometimes, she makes him angry just so he'll remind her that he's not always the cold, unfeeling shell of the man she used to know.
I'd also like to take this moment, if I may, to shamelessly plug Lullaby of Broadway, by to-be-epic WIP featuring the whole gang and a crap-ton of OCs. Go read! It's good, I swear.