Herman's Palace


21:32: Tevvie bursts in, all dramatic energy.
“I can’t miss any chance you want to summon me! Well, last time I checked, I’m not Peter Pan, which means I have my own shadow too… I can arrange your friendship if you’re still looking for shadow-folks.”
He laughs, wraps me in a lovely hug, and peppers my face with happy kisses.

21:33: “Shadow-folks, huh?” I mutter. Yep. I attract mysterious silhouettes… and mildly unhinged men.

21:34: “I can’t say no to having Michael Jackson vinyls,” he adds, grinning. “As a reward for opening rusty doors and sniffing spooky air… we’ll see.”
Then he reaches for the closet and grabs a record. “Herman’s Hermits? Pfft… seems like a joke from Kobe.”

21:36: Tevvie is moonwalking across the basement like he owns the place. Dust clouds everywhere. I lean against the doorway, arms crossed, smirk fully activated. Priorities.

21:39: Brush a cobweb off his shoulder. Fingers linger. Perfume + dust = chaos. Whisper: “Haunted or not… moonwalk or not… I like you so much.”

21:41: Eye the record in his hands again. “Herman’s Hermits?” Mock horror. “Is that even a band? Retro heartbreak alert!”

21:42: Straighten, smirk fully charged. “Be honest. Did you come here for me… or the vinyl treasure hunt?” He freezes mid-moonwalk. Score.

21:43: Tilt head, teasing. “Because I made sandwiches… brought water… and, my dear Minty, we are going to Stonehenge.”

21:44: Lean fraction closer. Jasmine-scented, conspiratorial whisper: “Unless… you’re here for vinyls, which I’d totally understand.”

21:45: He feels my caring hand on his shoulder. My scent drifts to his nosetip, and my soft voice hits him right in the heart.

21:46: He laughs, pulling me closer, hands caressing my hips.
“Baby, while I was driving here, I had no idea we were collecting vinyls at all. I just got scared you’d get possessed by cruel creatures, so I hopped here as fast as I could… (and a lot of other sweet things).”

21:48: His voice… those words… chest-flutter city. Could roll my eyes, but my heart skipped anyway. Settled for a half-sigh, half-laugh—exclusive sound for this room, this moment.

21:49: “Aww… you came to save me from the vinyl poltergeist,” I murmur. Let the words drift. “Minty, you’re sweet but ridiculous.”

21:50: Flex biceps because priorities. Fingers trail over his chest—slow, teasing. “I could fight off rats for you,” whisper, low and warm. “But what you said… damn, that’s sweet. Almost wish there was a poltergeist right now.”

21:51: Lips brush his lips. Spark of heat. Fingers linger, playful brushes that scream promise of more, but reality tugs.

21:54: Step back first, still smirking. Gesture to doorway: “Come on, Minty. Stonehenge won’t wait for us to get lost in haunted basements forever… but we’ll come back one day.”

21:55: Loop arm through his. Laughter spills, sandwiches tucked, water bottles rattling.

21:56: Road ahead winds. World shrinks to just us. Ready for ancient stones, druid dreams, and absurd adventures.

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