A drabble by LaBelleMenteuse
Disclaimer: Blaise Harman is property of LJ Smith.
Notes/Warnings: Here be slash. Specifically, Blaise girlslash. If that doesn't float your boat, I wouldn't read it if I were you. The product of my meditations on Blaise and her relationships. Enjoy.
Blaise can see her sitting out of the corner of her eye. Her hair is in a casual tumble that Blaise, with a fellow woman's eye, recognises as an elaborate creation, a work of art, a counterfeit. She knows she is being watched.
Still.
Blaise cannot quite stand to take her eyes away from the hair, the hand that taps languid on the surface of the desk, the her soft cheek that idles on the other hand's palm.
When she moves, Blaise is quite unprepared.
She wants, desperately, to follow, watch every motion of the hip.
Instead, she looks away.