"Morning Dels." I say, glancing at the girl I shot. The girl who forgave me... or so she claims. "Oh what was that?" She gasps in mock outrage. "No Della or babe today?" She teases and I chuckle, setting waffles in front of her. "Only if you want me to."
Delilah grins lightly, her frosty grey eyes almost white as she walks to the kitchen bar, her slender legs effortlessly graceful - even with her injury. Her long black hair resting just above her a*s, half tied up in a ponytail the other half loose.
"Geez, now he decides to ask permission." Delilah rolls her eyes, drawling sarcastically. I grab my plate sitting next to her. Delilah is thin. Too thin. She looks vulnerable and sickly - her bones protruding, making her look bony. She shivers and I hand her a blanket that was laying around.
