<div style="text-align: justify;">Bonnie, installed comfortably on the pile of hay, looked around curiously. Moonshine. People back home still did it, not because of the prohibition, of course, but as a family tradition. It was something that, to Bonnie, connected her to Clyde, even if indirectly.<br/><br/>When he explained the presence of the sill and talked about how his parents had met, Bonnie smiled. <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Never met my old man"</span></span>, she commented somewhat vaguely. A second later, she shrugged it off and then smiled a little more cheerfully. <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Looks like it"</span></span>, Bonnie replied, about the criminal life running in his blood.<br/><br/>She wasn't really scared of Clyde. It was strange, seeing that she had witnessed him shoot a person less than twenty for hours ago. But she just felt she didn't really need to fear him.<br/><br/>When Clyde approached and leaned over her, Bonnie lifted her gaze to him. His touch alone sent heat waves through her body, in a way she couldn't remember ever having felt before. Clyde's question made Bonnie raise a hand, her fingertips caressing his cheek and moving to his neck.<br/><br/>Her eyes closed as the lips touched. At first, Bonnie kept the kiss gentle. A few seconds in, though, the kiss became fiercer, hungrier, as her fingers slid through Clyde's hair and gripped it tight.<br/><br/>While they kissed, the small rational part that was still awake told Bonnie she didn't want the kiss to end. And that she never wanted to kiss anyone else other than Clyde.</div>