OOC:
David Craft. 46 years old. 6'2". 200 pounds. Greying black hair. Black eyes.
IC:
Coming home form work early, I found my barely legal daughters entangled. They were embracing on the couch, exchanging soft, sweet kisses. They were both dressed, but my elder daughter's hand had vanished inside her younger sister's blouse. They looked comfortable together, like this was something they had done before.
They looked scared when they saw me standing in the doorway. They had nothing to fear.
"There's no reason to stop," I said as I put down my briefcase and walked toward them....
David Craft. 46 years old. 6'2". 200 pounds. Greying black hair. Black eyes.
IC:
Coming home form work early, I found my barely legal daughters entangled. They were embracing on the couch, exchanging soft, sweet kisses. They were both dressed, but my elder daughter's hand had vanished inside her younger sister's blouse. They looked comfortable together, like this was something they had done before.
They looked scared when they saw me standing in the doorway. They had nothing to fear.
"There's no reason to stop," I said as I put down my briefcase and walked toward them....