Mateo
champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Feeling surprisingly good about how his impromptu training has gone, Mateo's smile is nonetheless already fading from his lips as he realises how done his friend is with the proceedings. Quietly berating his tentacle rod in the travelling tongue and telling it sternly to behave, the botanist puts it away and raises both hands placatingly to Ever. "Not necessarily," he says, trying for reassurance. "Perhaps you are just ill-equipped to fight and/or love tentacles."
Is he helping? Is he making it worse? Keep digging and find out, Mateo.
"Which is probably quite wise," he continues, "given how deep in the ocean they live. Shall we start walking back to the city? I am certain there are no cephalopods in Stormbreak, for what it's worth."
Is he helping? Is he making it worse? Keep digging and find out, Mateo.
"Which is probably quite wise," he continues, "given how deep in the ocean they live. Shall we start walking back to the city? I am certain there are no cephalopods in Stormbreak, for what it's worth."
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
