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[color=Cyan][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Pink Room [color=Cyan]
[b]Time:[/b][/color] Dusk
[color=Cyan][b]Interactions:[/b][/color][@helo] Noah
[color=Cyan][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] [@oso] Locke
[color=Cyan][b]Outfit:[/b][/color]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTy9vLk-B_AcsxD6LrVrm1JWGAhceM6SirzLrIz94r-W-4ngPlzIyvE4pqa9-p2zlq6tEo
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Wren stayed tucked close to Noah, her head resting against his chest, fingers absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of his shirt like she was searching for something solid. Her eyes wandered past the flickering neon overhead, past the space between the words being traded. But her focus flicked back in little jolts each time Locke tapped the table.

[i]Tap. Tap. Tap.[/i]

It was subtle, but her body reacted. A small twitch in her shoulders. A shallow breath. Her fingers lifted and hesitated in the air, moving like they were trying to catch the rhythm.

[color=cyan]“…Depends on the cage,”[/color] she said finally, her voice soft, almost distracted. [color=cyan]“Some of them are soft. Warm. You don’t even know you’re in one until the lock clicks.”[/color]

She didn’t look directly at Locke, but it was clear his presence had started something in her. She was listening not just to what he said, but to the way he said it. The pattern of his tapping seemed to pull something loose in her, some thread of thought she hadn’t meant to follow.

[color=cyan]“And some cages knock before they close,”[/color] she added after a moment, quieter. [color=cyan]“So polite. So thoughtful. Like he wants you to say thank you.”[/color]

Her hand moved to Noah’s arm, her fingers curling into his sleeve for reassurance. When she spoke again, it was lower, just for him.
Wren finally glanced up at Noah. Her eyes looked far away, but there was something sharp underneath the haze, something aware.
[color=cyan]“He keeps trying to open things,”[/color] she said, [color=cyan]“Things that don’t belong to him.”[/color]
A long pause passed. Then she sat up a little straighter, letting out a quiet breath, like she was surfacing from deep water. She smiled—not at anyone in particular, just to herself.

[center][color=cyan]Clever fingers, that one[/color] the voices murmured. [color=cyan]But he always plays the wrong song.[/color][/center]

Her eyes narrowed in until Noah laughed, and with an eerie giggle, Wren did too at how disrespectful the little fae was being.[color=cyan]“ Perhaps you should speak to her mutt…”[/color] Wren added looking at Locke with a clever smile. [color=cyan]“He could surely sniff her out.”[/color]   
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