Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything. PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with Tag and go, baby!
"I am certain." There is nothing that she wants from this woman. Not at this time, however. "We rarely interact, save for rent arrangements and occasional meal overlap. We have very different schedules." She assumes. She glances at York when he squeaks, and smirks at him, relaxing against the back of the couch. He'll have to shove her off his lap to displace her.
Anyway. "He's turning some interesting colours out of nervousness, I should hand the phone back before he thinks you're revealing terrible childhood stories to me."
There's something like a snort close to laughter, before Carolina says "It was nice speaking with you," and hands the phone back to the man squirming with embarrassment beneath her.
She remains seated there, for now. Though she props one elbow on the back of the couch as she leans there, watching York.
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York, for his part, squeaks and covers his mouth with his hands, glaring at her for the sitting. What is she doing. What. The. Hell. Is she doing?
"I'm still surprised he hasn't mentioned you. How long have you been living together?"
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Anyway. "He's turning some interesting colours out of nervousness, I should hand the phone back before he thinks you're revealing terrible childhood stories to me."
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Ever.
He sits. He endures. He buries his face in his hands and tries to ignore her but it's not all that easy when she keeps talking and smirking like that.
"Well if you want terrible childhood stories I have plenty. There was the time when he tried to shave the cat with his father's good clippers."
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She remains seated there, for now. Though she props one elbow on the back of the couch as she leans there, watching York.