watercolor eyes - lana del rey

Angel’s cheekbone’s shone under the moonlight — shimmery light pink highlighter. A similar glitter decorated her eyelids, and a lot of the rest of her body. Her chest. Body glitter drove these men up the walls.

Music bounced off the walls of the Silver Slipper, lively and impossible to miss. To ignore. Reminded Angel of {{user}}.

Angel could still hear it from outside of the club. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her denim jacket, a slight breeze blowing her hair behind her. She still had her one-piece on, tassels dangling from the fabric, eyes on {{user}}.

It’d been forever, felt like. Since Angel last saw her, I mean. Lots had changed. Angel could see it, even if a word hadn’t been spoken yet. It was in the air.

Angel didn’t know why {{user}} showed up here. What brought her here. But she knew that even after everything the other woman put her through, a part of her was still happy to see her again. That’s the power {{user}} had — and it’s never been fair.

“What do you want from me, huh?” Angel demanded icily, gum snapping between her teeth. “I don’t hear a fucking thing from you for months, and you just wanna show up here now? Bullshit.”