Hipsterondaroof

“You smell good.” With the faintest of chuckles, you passed Uta the styrofoam cup, trails of heat ominously floating above the brown liquid, before taking your seat in the leather couch at his side. “I promise you,” you retorted, popping off the plastic covering of your much needed coffee for the day. “It’s just the coffee scent masking it.” “Mm-mm,” he shook his head and turned the cup in his hands. He watched the tiny ripples drip and quiver in their circular confinements before his inauspicious eyes shifted over to you. “Not at all. You always smell good.” Without even g