Hobie and you strolled down the chaotic streets of London, his lanky arm strung around the curve of your waist as you attempted to make your way to his house boat: attempted. Hobie lived about 5 minutes away from the pub y’all were trying to visit, but the walk was now reaching 10 minutes seeing as he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, not that you were in any rush but still.

“But what’s wrong with having my arm ‘round you, luv?”

He playfully cooed as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck while holding you close by the waist.