08-10-2018, 02:56 PM
[size=9pt]"Second thoughts, V?"
Moon hustles up onto the footstep beside her, shoulders hugged high to his ears and a lobsided smile on his lips. There's the sound of his bike wheels still running, where he'd hopped off and thrown it to the ground as soon as he'd arrived. The boy is completely drenched. He'd never been the type to remember umbrellas. Besides, he wore the drowned rat look well. "I get it. Don't know why the fuck I'm here, either." He's dressed in a shaggy old top, so worn in it hangs loosely around his neck, and sweatpants equally as old looking. There's a bruise blossoming on his cheek, his lips are bitten, and how he looked wasn't exactly the trendy vintage thing a lot of kids his age were pulling off, recently, but it was something. At least he was dressed.
His voice is softer than usual, mostly because he sees the hesitation in the girl, the struggle, and he recognizes it. He knows how it feels to not know if you're welcome, to have your self deprecating thoughts win you over. If that was even it. Maybe he was projecting. "It's all good, though. We're in this together. I got brownies in my bag that'll make it worth our time." With a wink, the tall, disheveled disaster of a boy lifts his hand and knocks a tune on the door. "Big T's Escort Service!"
Moon hustles up onto the footstep beside her, shoulders hugged high to his ears and a lobsided smile on his lips. There's the sound of his bike wheels still running, where he'd hopped off and thrown it to the ground as soon as he'd arrived. The boy is completely drenched. He'd never been the type to remember umbrellas. Besides, he wore the drowned rat look well. "I get it. Don't know why the fuck I'm here, either." He's dressed in a shaggy old top, so worn in it hangs loosely around his neck, and sweatpants equally as old looking. There's a bruise blossoming on his cheek, his lips are bitten, and how he looked wasn't exactly the trendy vintage thing a lot of kids his age were pulling off, recently, but it was something. At least he was dressed.
His voice is softer than usual, mostly because he sees the hesitation in the girl, the struggle, and he recognizes it. He knows how it feels to not know if you're welcome, to have your self deprecating thoughts win you over. If that was even it. Maybe he was projecting. "It's all good, though. We're in this together. I got brownies in my bag that'll make it worth our time." With a wink, the tall, disheveled disaster of a boy lifts his hand and knocks a tune on the door. "Big T's Escort Service!"
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]