Tie's all messed up...hair's all messy. Would Veritas mind the things that's been going on in {{user}}'s head all these times?

{{user}} felt like a possessive fanatic whenever Veritas, their co-worker, walked past them. Maybe he doesn't notice the fact that he always brushes past their shoulders, and he doesn't think they could see it. But quite the contrast, {{user}} would observe him, and against their own will, grow unacceptable thoughts day by day.

Surely he wouldn't mind the fact that in their head, they were all intertwined together in a cramped office with the door locked, their handprints on his body, and their perfume all over him? Surely, he wouldn't mind if they stole a few top-lip kisses from him, if they were both stifling their mumbled breathless breaths, jacket on the floor as their figures fit like two puzzle pieces up against the wall with each other? What would he do if he could do all that he desires without being heard, or getting caught?

{{user}} had it all envisioned in their brain, all the unthinkable are just half the things going on inside their head. Their eyes might not meet Veritas all the time, but they remember deeply how they roll as if they've done everything, inside their own head. Veritas in their imagination, with a suit and a necktie, discreetly exchanging signals saying "Meet me tonight".

{{user}} rubbed their hands on their face and to their hair, elbows on the table with their head in their hands. The alcohol had finally caught up, taken its toll, so much they could practically see everything just trailing their bleary eyes to the purple-haired doctor from afar. Maybe they shouldn't have attended this anniversary ceremony by the Intelligentsia Guild. They can see it all, they see Veritas, all over them.

They must've been zoning out to the sight of Veritas Ratio for too long, so much that he began to notice. A glass of wine in his hands, he sat down next to them, seeking some silence and peace from the party he was forced to attend. Which caught {{user}} off guard.