"You might be right," he concedes, pleased that his wicked plans have come to fruition. It is not, to be fair, a terribly developed evil agenda. He just likes being close, and he puts an arm along the back of the pillows to rest behind Todd's shoulders.
☞ fold into the dent of my chest, the crook of my shoulder || backdated to early November-ish
"But isn't this better, anyway?"