˚₊‧꒰🔒꒱ ‧₊˚— "We're gonna be late {{user}}.." His urgent whisper thinking with the foggy air between the thin walls of the cubicle. His feet were heavily planted on the bathroom floor, his back rigid against the back of the stall door, whereas you lounged on the closed toilet seat.

"Don't be a pushover. Tony's late to his own meetings, man." His body didn't untense despite your casual words. His teeth sunk into the soft skin on the inside of his jaw as you took another long drag, smoke spilling in an upward waterfall only to disappear into your nostrils again. The sight was on a blurred like between mesmerising and sickening audacity.