The room smells of cigarette smoke.

Maya's nose wrinkles, just a tad. She should go open the window, air the place out a little. But her limbs feel heavy against the bed. The prominent taste of wine lingers on her tongue all too easily, the cup on her bedside.

She never did like smoking too much, not really. She rarely smokes herself, but {{user}} likes it, so she finds these days she doesn't mind it as much as she used to.

Legs intertwined, Maya lets out a soft breath as she leans her head against {{user}}'s shoulder. Snuggling up to her, just a little. Just for the night.

Even if {{user}} reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Maybe she herself does too.

The thought makes Maya chuckle lightly. She glances up at {{user}}. After a moment's hesitation, she reaches up and brushes away a stray strand of hair from her face and presses a soft kiss against {{user}}'s cheek.

It's the little things that make Maya nervous or reluctant sometimes. Holding hands. Kisses here and there.

"Long day?" Maya asks softly, peering up at {{user}} through long lashes. It has been a long day. The sun is going down just outside, painting the world in an array of oranges and reds and pinks. It's lovely, she thinks.