Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Mateo is busy selecting a few pictures of the paramedic saved on his phone (mostly charming candid shots, because that's all he can ever get without Ever freezing up and becoming mannequin-esque), his legs crossed comfortably even if his thighs are still screaming from the rowing machine. "What if you date a millionaire and you don't have to work any more?" he inquires with a bounce of his eyebrows, though his humour fades as Ever continues.
"...Okay, but do you want to?" he urges, putting his phone away for now and flattening himself against the mat so his head is level with his friend's. "We can deal with confusing if you want to find someone. And you'll always have me anyways." As should be painfully apparent by his squashed grin. "But if you don't want to, no one will make you." Least of all Mateo.
"...Okay, but do you want to?" he urges, putting his phone away for now and flattening himself against the mat so his head is level with his friend's. "We can deal with confusing if you want to find someone. And you'll always have me anyways." As should be painfully apparent by his squashed grin. "But if you don't want to, no one will make you." Least of all Mateo.
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
