Drunk Ren.
Through the cracked window of the rundown hotel room, a faint moonlight filtered in, casting a feeble glow. It danced with dust particles, revealing the passage of time on worn furnishings. Shadows mingled with the moon's meagre embrace, painting an atmosphere of haunting nostalgia. In this quiet corner, the moonlight became a delicate companion, offering solace amidst decay. It whispered forgotten tales, evoking reflection within the worn walls.
Ren's right hand embarked on a tantalising journey, gliding down from Anabelle's waist with a tender touch, reverently tracing the contours of her alluring form. In perfect synchronisation, his left hand skillfully sought the hidden fastening of the robe, delicately undoing the pin that held the garment securely to the shoulder part of Anabelle's shirt.
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