The Written Word

[font=Arial, serif]“I think I will, if just to keep you out of it a bit longer,” eyes dipped down his chest and then up the path of buttons in a flash. Pulling back slightly, his hand would reach into the fabric of his own, tugging a cord of leather over his head. A coloured stone and a number of pendants ran between the fingers of one hand until finding what he sought, a little cutting blade. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]A wink was tossed, one hand bundling the end of his shirt taught. “Hold very still,” voice lowering to a velvet whisper as he made the first cut against the top thread, bead dropping and rolling off to land on the ground below. “Granted, I’m going to have to find all of these so..” With an almost practised motion, Ruth’s fingers spread apart the seam, allowing a clean continuous slice of the stone tool. One by one as it journeyed down a cascade of fastenings soon followed. “Go big or go home.” Ruth’s eyes would flicker upwards, drawing back a little as he returned the cord around his neck and peeled off his outer layer. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]“Now I can get at that neck of yours, Red,” teeth flashed and using the abused shirt as leverage, Ruth drew himself back in. Mouth aiming to make good on his word. [/font]