“He had one of those faces where you were aware of the bones beneath the skin, as if even his bare skull would be attractive. A fine nose, slightly shiny with grease, and dark skin beneath the eyes the looked almost bruised, a badge of honour from all the smoking and late nights spent deliberately lose at strip poker with girls from Bedales. There was something feline about him: eyebrows fine, mouth pouty in a self-conscious way, lips a shade too dark and full, but dry and chapped now, and roughed with Bulgarian red wine. Gratifyingly his hair was terrible, short at the back and sides, but with an awful little quiff at the front. Whatever gel he used had worn off, and now the quiff looked pert and fluffy, like a silly little hat.”
Notes:
-
flightoftheneurons liked this
-
thetradgedyofthehumancondition reblogged this from tchotchke
-
kiwimetaphor reblogged this from tchotchke
-
romadeebee liked this
-
tchotchke posted this
