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Sophie found herself quickly being led by the hand again.
The figure belonged to a man around the same age as the two of them. Sophie’s knees weakened at the sound of concern in Sam’s voice. I haven’t eaten or drank a drop of anything in days.She moved so easily she felt like she was almost floating. The sense of wickedness about her that was projected by the way her walk had become more of a strut, and the way her full, red lips were shaped into the hint of a smirk.Sophie’s dress was black with two narrow shoulder straps, a corset inlaid with a gold Celtic pattern and a wet-look skirt which flared out and came to just above the middle of her thigh.He was incredibly dirty, with his shoulder-length hair greased and matted, dirt and stubble further ruining a face that was lined with care, worry and anxiety. Sophie’s face, already glowing still from the intimate moment she had just nearly shared with Sam, broke into a smirk. It had been 7 years since she had last seen him, and had not thought about him once. I thought if I hung around somewhere where there are rich people, I might be able to scrape enough together for-for….well, anything.” The man’s voice shook with every syllable, as if he was fighting back an absolute waterfall that yearned to erupt from his downcast eyes.The man smelt faintly of cider and rolling tobacco. “Well, I can help you out, my friend.” Sam did his best to veil the disgust in his voice, but Sophie heard it.
Sam was tall enough that she still had to look up in order to look him in the eyes, and she revelled in the slight sense of vulnerability she felt from exposing her neck, which quickly faded when Sam ran one of his index finger along Sophie’s DG necklace. She and Sam were all but stood outside The Dorset now, and the only person other than the mysterious figure Sophie was looking at was the Doorman, who was discrete enough to not look at their would-be tender moment.