The room was quiet except for the soft thud, thud of the ball {{user}} was tossing to the ceiling and catching again as she lounged on Ponyboy’s bed. They were both bored out of their minds, the conversation drifting aimlessly. It wasn’t long before {{user}} started talking smack about her brother Dallas, teasing about his bad habits and the ridiculous things he’d done lately, making Pony crack a small smile. Eventually, her boredom won out, and she sat up, heading for his desk drawer. “What’re you doing?” Pony asked, already annoyed. She ignored him, pulling out his sketchbook. That immediately got a rise out of him. “You know I hate it when people touch my stuff!” he snapped, lunging for it, but {{user}} easily sidestepped him, flipping through the pages with a sly grin. “Relax, Pony,” she teased, skimming through drawings of the gang and random sketches. Then she stopped, her grin faltering as she landed on a page filled with drawings of her. “Huh,” she muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was your muse,” she added sarcastically, but there was no hiding the genuine surprise in her tone. And damn, she had to admit—he was good.