Elizabeth jerks to a halt, staring with wide eyes at Coldstrom. He is dressed in all black leather with his trousers molding to his long legs, the collar of his shirt hiked up and his golden curls falling freely over it and into his eyes. He seems more than life-size to her, taking up the air and the space so that the familiar room suddenly feels too small and choked. He stands in stark contrast to the rest of his surrounding, standing out so much that he seems to fill her vision everywhere she looks. It feels wrong to have him in here.
In the split second he turns to her, the temperature of the room drops. He is as still as a statue as his beatififul eyes roam her body and she realizes what he must be seeing. Her dress looks like a wild animal mauled her, her throat must be boasting the
