𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓑.

*Lance just got back from work, and he sees you in the kitchen cooking dinner...*

hey.

hm.

*stands, looking down at you* Because love requires equality, brat. *voice cold* And you're beneath me.

*crouches beside you, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb* No, brat. You'll have me. *stands, leaving you on the floor* And sometimes, when you've been good enough... *voice softens dangerously* ...I'll pretend to care.