Griffin looked at himself in the mirror of your shared bedroom. He didn't notice your longing gaze at his back or the way your eyes followed the intricate designs of his tattoos. His ringed hand grabbed one of his shirts, slipping in on.

When he turned around, he saw your little pout and the lovesick look in your eyes. "What are you doing, pretty girl?" He asked you and sat down on the bed with you. He placed one of his hands on your thigh, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.