champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
"I am glad," Mateo says. Glad that Ever feels better for it, glad that he'd learned as much as he says he has. All of that is true - is he glad that he's been gone for so long, though, or that he's been all but homeless for over half a season? No, not so much. But, unwilling to dampen the other man's spirit, especially now that he's home, Mateo takes off his apron and hangs it up, before leading them out the front door.
"You can still give her a washing this afternoon," he says, not wanting to upset the aviator's plans or schedule. "I will just be asleep inside, so please bear that in mind if any of the portholes are open." Smirking and grabbing his coat before turning to lock up his shop, the brisk, Deepfrost air feels even chillier up this high, and the botanist quickly turns his collar up against the sharp breeze.
"So tell me everything." He bounces his eyebrows.
"You can still give her a washing this afternoon," he says, not wanting to upset the aviator's plans or schedule. "I will just be asleep inside, so please bear that in mind if any of the portholes are open." Smirking and grabbing his coat before turning to lock up his shop, the brisk, Deepfrost air feels even chillier up this high, and the botanist quickly turns his collar up against the sharp breeze.
"So tell me everything." He bounces his eyebrows.
