NATE
stop, what the hell are you talking about? ha
get my pretty name outta your mouth
get my pretty name outta your mouth
Nate is still lingering around, wrapping up loose ends as neatly as he can, just none of them go dragging after him when he leaves. When they leave. He’s flirting around the market today, making deal and exchanging handshakes for some lumber, some panes of glass, when he catches sight of a shadow so wholly out of place in the Torchline sun that he has to do a double take.
Pemota drifts effortlessly above the doctors shoulder while he drifts effortlessly behind Wessex, a wordless curiosity cocking his head. He doesn’t try to interact, merely pausing in front of the stall, smiling distantly up at his fellow Demi-god. It’s only when she speaks, voice impossible to ignore where it washes over the shoppers, that understanding dawns on Nate’s ace, and he shifts to leans against the stall instead, facing out with his bonded starwhal at his side.
Maybe if he’s not a friendlier face, he’s at least a more familiar one.
Pemota drifts effortlessly above the doctors shoulder while he drifts effortlessly behind Wessex, a wordless curiosity cocking his head. He doesn’t try to interact, merely pausing in front of the stall, smiling distantly up at his fellow Demi-god. It’s only when she speaks, voice impossible to ignore where it washes over the shoppers, that understanding dawns on Nate’s ace, and he shifts to leans against the stall instead, facing out with his bonded starwhal at his side.
Maybe if he’s not a friendlier face, he’s at least a more familiar one.
we are not the same with or without
don't talk 'bout me like how you might know how i feel
don't talk 'bout me like how you might know how i feel
