Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Asta was hard to miss, even in the bustle of the dimly lit brothel. Greeting him with a hasty smile as he came up to her, his question earned him a half shrug as she waved off the concern. Getting tired of my own words
"Oh, I'm fine. Picked up a half shift to cover for one of the others, they weren't feeling well."
Reaching beneath the bar, she hauled up a glass and held it out for the Butcher in mute question. "How is it going out there, any trouble worth mentioning?" It all looked the same from her vantage point; a wall of thirst and debauchery that blocked her off from anything less than the ceiling catching on fire. That only happened once so far - it seemed like a good sign.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
