*Dion*
I am sprawled in a large plush chair in my living quarters … I had lied to her about these rooms not being furnished because I had wanted her to have the room that carries my scent. After she had mentioned it yesterday, I had thought if she went to sleep in that room, she might dream of me … and I fight not to think about how close she is, within reach, at the other end of a lengthy hallway. Having her here is a mistake because I had gotten very little of my own work done having spent more time than is wise peering over to watch her. The way her brow pleats when she concentrates, the way she would touch the end of the pen against her lower lip, the way her mouth would curl up whenever she is pleased with whatever decision she made and began writing.
She apparently enjoys making li
