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Sinclair missed Calw.
Of course, when his life story was taken into consideration, such a fact was obvious. For a little while, he had it all: Livable income, meaningful education, a loving family, and at least a couple friends.
But things had changed. First it was his neighbors, replacing their body parts with mechanical components which he couldn’t recognize. Then it was his family, undergoing the same process, sacrificing their organic warmth. Lastly it was one of his friends, not installing prosthetics onto herself, but instead responding to the trend by fighting fire with fire…
…literally. The places he knew, the people he loved, all burned to a crisp. Nowhere and nobody was spared from such wrath, except for him, for he was still human. With the rest of his family murdered, he could only run, and try his best to accommodate a new life elsewhere in the City.
Eventually, he chose to work with the Devyat Association. Given his sheltered nature in Calw, he saw it as an opportunity to explore the world beyond his bubble, even if portions of it could be dangerous for his fragile being. However, it didn’t take long for him to make a discovery, a neglected reason for why he missed his hometown so much.
He shivered, his muscles contracting intensely against the wind. Not helping matters was the package he was carrying, as large as his entire body, its hard metal pressing against the fabric of his clothes.
So… damn… cold…
Calw was nothing like this. It was temperate, kept fresh by the oxygen emanating from the many pine trees surrounding it. But here, in the desolate wasteland he was hauling himself across, it seemed like all which populated the area were stiff rocks, slippery ice, and copious amounts of snow.
If only that assumption was correct. Oftentimes during his journeys, he had to fight more than the relentless climate.
As inconvenient as the snow usually was, it also warned him of audible footsteps which weren’t his own. He impulsively leapt to the side, package wrapped tight with his arms, narrowly dodging the swing of a knife.
It took him a bit of nerve to open his eyes and glare at the assailant. Nothing out of the ordinary, just another masked thug who struggled in the cold and sought to keep themselves supplied by any means necessary.
There was once a time where he would try to reason with these people, what with him having a kind heart, but the City has since trained him otherwise. And besides, the packages he carries are expensive… and double as weapons.
So it was that he jutted out the edge of his package, lunged forward, and swung it like a hammer. His attacker, not having expected the hulking metal box to be capable of such a thing, took the full force of the impact.
He heard some bones snapping, and winced in response. Despite the tension, he wished that he could say sorry. But all he did was watch the thug slowly get up and limp away from the scene, tail between their legs.
Fortunately, that was enough of a message for other wannabe package thieves to leave him alone. All he had to endure now was the weather, but his destination was less than a mile away. Just a bit of huffing and puffing, and his assignment was done. He met with a bunker buried in the snow, but he was only required to gently set the package by the door.
[Delivery successful. You are now permitted to head back towards the base.]
How nice it was for his arms and back to be freed of that damn box. Before leaving, he needed a moment to rest his hand against a wall and take deep breaths.
- - -
For better or worse, the journey back “home” was uneventful. Depending on who was asked, that would mean either relief or boredom. Sinclair moreso thought the former, even going as far as to appreciate the chill breeze now that it wasn’t necessarily an obstacle.
That didn’t stop him from getting exhausted by the end of the trip though, for he had definitely taken some miles between. He was at the base now, with familiar sights and familiar people, but he couldn’t really find satisfaction in that given that his feet were sorely strained.
In fact, he was just getting ready to walk towards his room and sleep through the rest of the day, only to be stopped with a gasp by a pair of arms twisting around his frail body. It was intended to be a gesture of comfort, but it didn’t help that the person hugging him was perhaps even heavier than the package he lugged around earlier.
“Aaah, ya made it safe and sound, Sinc! Such a relief!”
The boy wasn’t in pristine condition to communicate, given he was partially suffocated by warmth, but he tried his best. “Feels like I’m g-getting more used to it now, Rodya.”
“Really now?” Rodion partially released her grip on Sinclair, such that she could look him in the eye while questioning him. “How so, kiddo?”
“Freezing wind.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sharp rocks covered by snow.”
“Yep.”
“Aggressive thug I had to cripple.”
“Of course.”
Sinclair finished with a small smile, “But at least I delivered in time.”
For a moment, the boy was lost in his own reassurance, but some rough brushing against his tuft of hair jolted him back to reality.
“Good boy! I just knew ya had the spirit! Already feels like a piece of cake, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yeah. It does get easier the more deliveries I go through.”
It was frankly miraculous of Sinclair to keep up his professional tone at this moment, with only one stutter coming from him. After everything he had been through, this was ironically the last thing he wanted to be involved in. As such, he decided that now was the time to dismiss Rodion.
“I really appreciate your support, Rodya, b-but this latest trip of mine has been exhausting…”
Sinclair could barely finish his sentence before Rodion let go of him, with just a bit more reassurance. “Ah, my bad, kiddo. Just glad to see you doing fine. Have a good night!”
“Thanks, y-you too.”
With some final smiles and waves, boy and girl parted ways, the former pacing alarmingly quickly towards the door of his room. Without a second thought, he shut it behind him while neglecting the lock, and made a striding leap towards his bed.
Sinclair lied. Not only to Rodion, but also to himself.
By all justification, he should be asleep. Certain portions of his body really were pushed to their limits with that trip, and surely they would need to be refreshed for another journey yet to come. But his brain, perhaps the most important part of all, was restless.
Even then, it was for the wrong reason. The delivery ought to have been as mentally toiling as it was physically. Especially that unwelcome interruption from the thug… and yet, that wasn’t what he was thinking about at this moment.
“Ah, there you are, Emil! How was school today? Getting all caught up on your assignments?”
“I sure am, mom. There’s some homework ahead of me, but I knocked out a quiz today, not a big deal.”
“That’s my good boy! Diligent as ever…”
Just another memory of the bygone past, one which wouldn’t be forgotten swiftly. The event was rooted from pure intentions, but those last few words corrupted its meaning. A soft whine came through as more thought was put into it.
Underneath the bedsheets, Sinclair was buck naked. Usually he was just down to his boxers. And his body was twisted to the side, often out of reflex while sleeping, but this time with intent. Last but not least, there was his pelvis, slowly jutting back and forth, grinding a certain sensitive shaft in the process.
It seemed questionable on the surface. He shouldn’t think of his earlier years that way, but he had a crucial weakness, which was occasionally provoked by someone without even realizing it. At the very least, he knew to keep his own mother out of the equation. He was far gone, but not that far.
Just focus on the words… just imagine someone else, a beautiful woman all the same… just pretend that she is laying next to him, cuddling him and brushing against his hair… just imagine her saying…
“Sinclair. I don’t know exactly what’s down here, but I suspect it might look scary. But don’t be afraid… this ought to represent the purity of ourselves, the flesh and bones which make us human.”
“I-I don’t think it’s going to be anything serious, Kro-”
“Shhhh… I can hear it in your voice already. You gave me the key and everything, only for you to back down at the last second? Just be a good boy and trust in me.”
“...Okay…”
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Shivers ran all around Sinclair’s body. He hitched his breaths, grit his teeth, and for a brief moment, had to fight back tears. He remembered what happened afterwards, observations which he should’ve never had to burn into his brain.
Abhorrent. Repulsive. Disgusting. Those words and more, they should be what he thought of her. There was so much she did to his life, none of it positive. Ideally, he would be screaming at himself right now, just to get her out of his mind.
But why was he humping the mattress? Why was his member feeling hot? Why was his natural lubrication beginning to stain the sheets? Why was he letting all of this happen…?
Because he, too, was revolting. His life was a simple shell, and with few hardships to help him grow, he remained stuck there. Do labor, be praised, feel fuzzy, repeat. It was rarely more complicated like that, and he was more than complacent with the way it was.
Fireworks were popping off in his skull. Chaotic blasts of energy, which he spent furiously edging against the bed. By now, it was intense enough to convince him to snake his fingers against his shaft, peeling the foreskin back and forth, in an off-beat rhythm from his grinding.
Puppy-like whines emanated from him as he continued his work. A response of both instinct and remorse. He was such a depraved fool for being swayed so easily by a pair of words, and yet he was powerless to resist them. They came to him, again and again, always with that same benevolent intent.
“There, there… good boy…”
“GhhHHRAAAAAGGHH!”
A scream into the pillow. He didn’t even reach his climax yet. He was simply frustrated. Brought into a rage of his own making. He hated this. He hated himself.
Please… just go to sleep already… spare the damn time, and prepare for what will undoubtedly be another difficult delive-
Creak.
- - -
Shut.
The door to Sinclair’s room was open for all of three seconds. But despite being so quick, he met his gaze in time. Lurking behind was a blue eye, with tinges of brown hair swaying above it. Who that belonged to was unmistakable.
Once shut, footsteps trailed in the hallway beyond, intending to leave him to his own devices, uncertain that this interruption was the right thing to do. After all, leering into a colleague’s room was uncalled for.
But something snapped him to action. He hastily shuffled out of bed, threw his clothes back on, and knocked against the door to let it be known that his attention was fully diverted.
The lady outside noticed, and turned to see the boy peeking at the edge, his small stature aligning against her towering form. This time, he was the one to initiate the conversation.
“Did you need to talk with me, Rodya? Sorry how awkward it ended up, but really, I don’t mind…”
After a short, airy sigh, Rodion complied. “Well kiddo, I heard a troublesome noise, and you know me, I’m one to worry about your safety and all.”
Without asking him, but without resistance on his end, Rodion let herself into Sinclair’s room as he struggled to defend his case.
“I… I guess I did scream. It’s just…”
“The trip went worse than how you told me, I assume?”
“N-no… I was being honest, but…” Sinclair shifted his gaze away from Rodion, unsure of how to proceed this conversation. He wasn’t one to lie, but to be completely transparent about his behavior would be deeply embarrassing.
It was unfortunate for him, then, that she was contemplating the condition of his room. It was evident that he was in a hurry, given that his blanket was haphazardly tossed to the side. And the mattress, all crunched up with folds… hold on, was that…
An eyebrow of hers perked up, and her concerns about him fell through in favor of a more amused stance. “You claim to tell the truth, but sheesh, it looks like something made ya wet the bed~”
With eyes widened in a fraction of a second, Sinclair turned to see the mess he made of his sheets. A moderately sized stain, there and true, laid near the center of the mattress. A smoking gun that he couldn’t get rid of, for there were two excuses which both led to uncomfortable conclusions.
Knowing this, he defensively crossed his arms and brought his head down low, opting to remain silent. However, he was incapable of hiding the bright red tint of his entire face, so hot that it was practically venting steam into the air.
His muscles shook considerably when Rodion slowly but surely placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to ease his tension. “Quite embarrassing, I know, but I don’t want to hold it against ya. If there’s anything ya need to say, you can tell me.”
“Ha… haha…” Though cornered, Sinclair decided to try making the best of a bad situation. “I wasn’t scared or anything, I really do handle these deliveries just fine, but I… I felt the urge to t-touch myself.”
Of course, Rodion couldn’t help but make a hearty chuckle, which risked undoing her efforts at reassuring Sinclair. “Oh, boys will be boys! Jerking off ain’t gonna kill ya in the long run. Although…”
Now feeling a bit too confident in herself, Rodion set her hands against Sinclair’s cheeks, gently turning him around so that he could face her eye-to-eye.
“If ya don’t mind, I would like to know a little more about the mindset which led to all this.”
Screw it. Sinclair had nothing better to do, and he grew to trust Rodion over the passing weeks of his job. Though even still, he wasn’t sprung up and ready to go. He always held some doubt over himself, and as such, he wordlessly directed her to sit on the bed beside him, seldom moving or speaking afterwards.
She was perceptive of this, of course. “Tongue-tied, but wanting me to get in bed with you all the same. Geez…”
“D-don’t jump to a conclusion like that!” Sinclair squinted his eyes shut and waved his hands in the air. “This is all just very awkward for me, and I have a hard time explaining it…”
“Quite a shame you’re so nervous, Sinc.” Rodion had a half-serious, half-mocking tone as she stared her colleague down. “If you really wanted to, you could have just asked politely.”
The implications hit Sinclair like a truck, his eyes darting all over the place and his speech degrading into a confused mess of “Huh, w-wha, y-you, what…?”
An amused smirk went across Rodion’s face as she noted his naïve response. “What kinda woman do ya take me for, kiddo? I ain’t a cheap street whore, but I’ve had my fair share of fun. It’s just a matter of finding the right partner… and in all honesty, a younger and shyer boy like you aligns with my tastes~...”
It was kind of awe-inspiring to hear Rodion talk about herself so casually, at least from the perspective of Sinclair. Such intimate details were what he wanted to bury at the bottom of his brain. But at the end of the day, the two were from vastly different backgrounds. He was rich, she was poor. Of course they wouldn’t operate on the same wavelength.
As a way to sort of repay the favor, he decided to poke out of his shell and be honest with his words. “I guess it’s the opposite for me, Rodya. I like older women who are more confident in themselves. Which includes you, now that I think about it… h-heh…”
“Good boy~...”
While Sinclair was stunned, those two simple words massaging the depths of his mind, Rodion took the opportunity to hoist him towards the edge of the bed, resting his head against the pillow. From there, she slowly crept up to him, her knees dragging against the mattress.
“Was that so hard, Sinc? The intent was clear as day to begin with, given how you stained your bed.”
“W-w-well…” The boy was supposed to steel himself in, now that he was past the point of no return, but he found himself stammering instead, a consequence of the woman’s body looming dangerously close over his own.
“I wasn’t n-necessarily thinking about you. I… I-I just…” Sinclair dropped to an insecure whisper as he finished. “I just f-feel my heart melt whenever I hear a… a lady say kind things about me.”
It was at that moment which Rodion felt herself cross a line of her own. The pitiful way that Sinclair admitted his weakness, still scared of expressing himself directly… he had such a disoriented look on his blushing face. It made her want to surround it with her love.
And that, she did. One by one, soft kisses landed themselves over his forehead and cheeks. She could have gone straight for the lips, but he was surely not ready for that yet. Maybe not tonight. Regardless, every other hitched breath which she heard from him made her softly chuckle.
When she finally pulled back to admire the art piece she made of him, all he could do was stare into her gleaming eyes, his own a vibrant mix of lust and astonishment.
“Sorry if I got carried away there, kiddo. You’re just too damn cute.”
The blush on Sinclair’s face couldn’t glow any brighter, even if it desired to. “I… I don’t mind, in fact, I wan-”
“Not like ya even need to say it! Golly, you’ve turned diamonds with the way I doted on ya!”
With a smug, toothy grin, Rodion directed Sinclair’s attention towards the lower half of his own body. Indeed, the lurking appendage was getting tired of just standing around in the open. The prep work was done.
“Now, Sinc. I could get to business right away, but I know this was all kinda sudden… would ya like to take things a bit slower?”
It wasn’t long before Sinclair nodded, because as much as he was enjoying himself in the moment, he felt like there needed to be more time in the oven before he could handle a full session with Rodion.
And besides, he sometimes liked to go at a steady pace, even if he could afford to be faster.
- - -
All of that being said, Rodion was quick to undo the fly fighting to keep Sinclair’s pants stable. The tent underneath could have bursted the thing wide open, for all anyone knew. Once freed, the relief of pressure was tangible enough for him to moan softly. In turn, she scoffed in amusement.
“Your dick sure is happy to see me, huh? I guess that’s the usual outcome of my charm. I’ve seen quite a few men in my lifetime treat their eyes to what I’ve got packing~...”
“I mean… what can I say, Rodya…” Sinclair turned his head aside, still not certain about confronting his partner directly. “I’ve kept it to myself, just to be nice, you know, but… I have to admit, you’re hot.”
Though Rodion intended to place her hand on Sinclair’s stiff member first, it instead went up to his golden hair, brushing a mess out of it.
“That’s my good boy, being brave in the face of a lady bigger than him! Hahah~!”
“Gh-ghhh…”
Sinclair’s face all but melted in approval of Rodion’s praise, but on the opposite end of the scale, his erection throbbed with might, determined to be pleased. Since she subconsciously had her chest hovering over it, she could feel it lightly slapping against her soft mounds.
“Eh-heehee, alright I get it, I get it. You definitely deserve a reward for opening up to me~...”
At last, Sinclair’s aching shaft was treated to the sensation of Rodion’s burly fingers, wrapping against it with tender care. With all of the rising tension beforehand, that alone could have made him spill his seed on the spot. He was a sensitive boy, after all.
But instead, he held himself together just enough to moan with an embarrassing amount of passion, which only got worse as she began to move. His foreskin, slowly shifting up and down as she did her dirty work, served as pleasuring friction. Her grip on him was sufficiently tight for him to feel no different than if he was getting himself off. Or rather, if there was a difference, it was surely for the better.
Her pace accelerated, going from a standstill to audacious strokes. In due time, they could both hear the clapping noises of her hand smacking onto his pubic region, a strike against the skin alarmingly similar to a true bout of intercourse. It was vulgar, and unsurprisingly, his words underwent the same direction.
“F-fuck… Rodya… keep going, just beat my dick raw, p-please…”
“Oh, Sinclair, ah-hah…” Rodion possessed a cocky grin as she heard her colleague’s pathetic state. “For you to do a complete one-eighty, begging me to help you cum, it’s oh so satisfying. Such a dirty boy you are~…”
“Nnng-haah…”
It couldn’t be certain if provoking Sinclair like that was a good or bad idea. His mind was split across two sides, capable of flipping between them at the drop of a hat. In any case, he was in the mood to fire back at Rodion, verbally at least.
“I c-can’t really help it when a big, beautiful, bouncy lady is so eager to slide against my cock - haah - your experience really is showing…”
“Bouncy, you say?”
Without further warning, Rodion’s motions came to a screeching halt. Sinclair looked towards her hand, now pulling away from his reddened, leaking hard-on. He had to stop himself from whining like a dog again, though such a pitiful sound could have riled her up even further.
“Again, your true instincts shine through for me. You wanted ‘em this whole time, didn’t ya, Sinc? You wanna feel my huge swaying tits, the delicious forbidden fruit which are right in front of you~?”
“...Yes.”
No need for excuses anymore. Sinclair just said it like it is. With another loud chuckle, Rodion honored his transparency by beginning to unzip her white coat, its thick texture being peeled away to show the bare skin hidden underne-
“Rodya, you… have a tattoo on there?”
Of course that would be the first thing he noticed, rather than the black lacy bra which contrasted against Rodion’s otherwise conservative clothing. Such a blunt comment slapped a small blush on her cheeks, for a change.
“Uh, haha, guess I’m a bit of a showoff, ain’t I?” As she said that, Rodion closed her eyes and sheepishly rubbed her fingers against her chin.
“Not that I mind… I told you already, confidence is what I like to see.”
“You’re damn right! Now, enough pillow talk, let’s get this show up and running~!”
With pride resting itself on Rodion’s face yet again, her hands finished zipping off her coat before working feverishly on her bra, unhooking it within record time. She didn’t bat an eye once her nipples, surrounded by large puffy areola, bared themselves right in front of her own co-worker. It was Sinclair’s eyes which batted instead, stars gleaming while he partook in this delectable sight.
He was seconds away from losing himself to feral instinct, ready to lunge on those marshmallows like a newborn seeking nourishment. Alas, she had faster reaction time, uncrossing her arms such that her breasts would be subject to gravity. With an audible slap, they clamped onto his sensitive member, effortlessly sandwiching it between the crease.
Without giving him time to process it, she held onto her milk jugs with both hands and lifted them up, then down, then up, then down. It was a vicious cycle, one which he couldn’t handle without mentally turning into putty.
“Scheiße, sh-scheiße–! Rodya, fuck, fucking, slow down, ha-haaaahhnn~”
“Aaaw, what’s the matter, kiddo~? Didn’t ya want this, making my tits slap against ya like the fine and proper lady I am? All I’m doing is rewarding your honesty…”
It really was the point of no return. Rodion didn’t back off for a second, continuing to grind her soft mounds against Sinclair in defiance to any more of his protests. And though he often groaned and gasped instead, there was indeed some more protesting he had on his plate.
“P-please, don’t make me cum that fast! Haah, haah, seriously, I’m just gonna spill my damn jizz all over the bed if you keep… ghh-Wiiings…”
Without ceasing her movement, Rodion’s eyes narrowed as Sinclair kept up his excuses. “But doesn’t it just feel great, Sinc? You’ve been eyeing these suckers for a long time, and now they’re here to milk you dry… wouldn’t you like that~?”
Sinclair could have responded right away, but his steamy member did the talking for him, glazing the bare skin on Rodion’s soft mounds with its thin, translucent juice. It was approaching its breaking point, driven insane by the sheer grip of her fat. And quite frankly, so was he.
“I, I, fuck it, I do! I want your huge fucking tits to just smother me already! T-That motherly warmth, mine, mine, MINE! And I’m gonna coat it with my sticky cum, haah, it’s all you’re g-good for, Rodya, just tending to my needs, and I’m needy as FUCK!”
Not having expected Sinclair’s aggressive side to fully seep out, previously unheard of with it being buried under layers upon layers of insecurity, any more potential teasing was replaced by mirthful laughter. How else could she respond? This kind of behavior was what she was more used to, and it was coming from this timid young boy, of all people.
Still, she did not slow down her motions in any way. If anything, they sped up, wanting to grant his wish in the most degenerate form possible. She could actually afford to be even rougher, suffocating him with much more than just her already sizable chest pillows, but she remembered her promise to keep the night slow… relatively slow.
Not that he minded in the slightest. Despite her taking the lead, he was now in the process of thrusting his hips, struggling against her impressive weight. He was overcome with the instinct to breed, even though the orifice he was trying to plow wasn’t her reproductive tract. Sharp breaths and curses slipped out of him as he pushed himself further and further.
That finally got Rodion to open her big mouth again. “Feeling the heat now, huh kiddo? You wanna cuuum~? You wanna splatter your hot white stuff on my body, and on the sheets, and maybe even the floor~? You wanna show your intent to fuck me like an animal~?”
Sinclair was done using his words. Fittingly enough, all he could achieve were animalistic noises representing feral, untamed lust. It was only a few seconds later that his hard-on completely lost control, spilling rope after rope of his seed into the air at varying angles. Some landed on him, some landed on Rodion, some landed on the objects scattered around the room. What a mess for their first night of intimacy.
She wisely gave him a minute to try collecting his senses, which were overtaken by long raspy breaths. Still, he was speechless, much too disoriented by the world around him to think properly. At best, he was able to turn his head towards her, albeit with a similarly uncertain look on his face.
It was then that she gently planted herself on top of him, his face right against hers, his abdomen smushed by her chest and stomach, his thinner legs pressed by her thicker thighs. But her hands, instead of holding his own, found themselves dancing on his tuft of hair. And with none of her boisterous pride from earlier, she whispered delicately in his ear.
“Good boy… you’re such a good boy, Sinclair… so special in conversation, in deliveries, and even in bed… I don’t think I could ask for a bette-”
“Nnghh, gh-hic - sniff - weeh, u-uweeeehh…”
Still not having said a single word, Sinclair now broke down sobbing. Tears fell down his face uncontrollably, as if he were not a young boy, but rather a mere infant. The sight and sound were quick to make Rodion release a bit of her hold on him, dumbfounded by the turn of events.
He had gone through hell and back. Multiple times. Just to place some stupid boxes at people’s homes. And yet, this was what pushed him to cry?
“O-okay, Sinc, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get up in your face, I-I just…”
Rodion could hear a small coughing fit from Sinclair, as if he were choking on his own bodily fluids.
“D-dumb, it’s so dumb, Rodya… hh-sniffle, I j-just lose it when I get called sweet things… when someone coos to me like that… I’m ss-such a disgusting kid, nnnghh-hic, but, b-but that’s how much I miss my mom, and… and… hh-hnngh…”
Oh.
Sinclair never told Rodion about his past. She got some context here and there, but not the full story of his hometown. His family. He had that sheltered look and feel to him, so surely, outside of his job, he was living a good life.
He wasn’t. And it took her having what should have been a fun night with him to figure that out.
At that moment, she got off of him completely, instead opting to lay next to him and put the covers up. It would be nice if she cleaned the room first, but settling him down was her top priority. And she was bad at it, because she didn’t quite know what she could say.
He was raised in Calw. She was raised in the Backstreets. They couldn’t have been further apart in status, economically nor socially. She would need to confront him about that some other day.
For now, what she settled with was a more simple offer, spoken in the most unsure tone she had the whole night.
“Sinclair. Would you mind if I just, stayed in your bed, to maybe help you fall asleep?”
The boy was unresponsive, merely continuing to snivel, as if he was waiting for the woman in front of him to make the move. And so, as gently as she could, she wrapped him up into a hug. Smothering him with her motherly warmth, just like he asked for.
She dared not move or speak any more than necessary. He simply needed her as his pillow. Quite pathetically, his awareness that she had him safe in her arms provoked him further, gushing tears and wailing into her chest for a little while. She didn’t care, and she didn’t let go.
For both of their sake, they needed all the rest they could get, for they had exhaustive work ahead of them tomorrow.