Harper
I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel
It's all that I can give to you, my dear
It's all that I can give to you, my dear
There is no space to invade that Harper does not readily offer, and he even snorts a sound of amusement when Thorn boldly slides into his lap, even turning to have the bar more at his back than his side to better facilitate it. Harper loops one arm around Thorn's waist to keep him securely on his lap, and takes a sip from his drink with the other hand, too used to this world now for things like fluster.
"Unfortunately I don't have many good ones," he grunts, the ambiguity of the word good intentional. Harper has plenty of dazzling tales, but the whole of them are darker, depressing in a way he doubts even a story-craving man like Thorn would be interested in. Harper has cried on enough hookers' shoulders to know that he's paying for the illusion of support at best, and he's stopped seeking it out. "Ruled a region. Helped kill a Kingmaker. Fell in with Demigods." Even had a son with one. Diamonds of brevity dripping off his tongue, flagrantly uninterested in his own achievements. What had they amounted to in the end? Nothing.
"Unfortunately I don't have many good ones," he grunts, the ambiguity of the word good intentional. Harper has plenty of dazzling tales, but the whole of them are darker, depressing in a way he doubts even a story-craving man like Thorn would be interested in. Harper has cried on enough hookers' shoulders to know that he's paying for the illusion of support at best, and he's stopped seeking it out. "Ruled a region. Helped kill a Kingmaker. Fell in with Demigods." Even had a son with one. Diamonds of brevity dripping off his tongue, flagrantly uninterested in his own achievements. What had they amounted to in the end? Nothing.
I know you mean well, But I'm not a vessel for your good intent
My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear
My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear
