champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
"Now that is the kind of weekend getaway I can get behind," Mateo says with a mischievous smile in his friend's direction. Get behind it, on top of it, hanging with it from the ceiling - Mateo is there, rest assured. And perhaps in the coming days he will have more pointed questions for the aviator - ones about their glorious leader, perhaps - but for today there's nothing he wants besides his best friend and his own bed.
"Things, huh," he echoes with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and a slightly knowing expression. "Will your new perspective involve you writing letters to King's End or the Grounds?" he wonders, obviously assuming that Ever has met someone in one of the brothels.
But gods, then there La Verbena is, and it's with a trill of, "Mia signora!" that he swans forward and across her gangplank, hopping onto the deck and going instantly down into the belly of the boat.
And whilst Ever's gifts are absolutely appreciated - Mateo oohs and aahs appropriately and admires the flowers he's brought - the botanist is instantly swarming into his bedroom, throwing open the doors to his closet and all but stepping inside. "Gods, it is good to be home."
"Things, huh," he echoes with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and a slightly knowing expression. "Will your new perspective involve you writing letters to King's End or the Grounds?" he wonders, obviously assuming that Ever has met someone in one of the brothels.
But gods, then there La Verbena is, and it's with a trill of, "Mia signora!" that he swans forward and across her gangplank, hopping onto the deck and going instantly down into the belly of the boat.
And whilst Ever's gifts are absolutely appreciated - Mateo oohs and aahs appropriately and admires the flowers he's brought - the botanist is instantly swarming into his bedroom, throwing open the doors to his closet and all but stepping inside. "Gods, it is good to be home."
