[o] [SE] longneck, ice cold beer never broke my heart

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

Her laughter made it harder for him to wrangle his. It was contagious, the way yawns mysteriously were, and he knew they could both lead each other to pointless hysterics eventually if they weren't careful—as long as they were both free to the mirth. She was equally attempting to contain herself though, which only kept quirking a corner of Iskra's mouth up. He pressed it against his drink, as if the physical barrier might deter it at last. "Oh?" he asked shakily, the hum of humor still there on his breath. "Can't imagine having to chase people down to give them my wood." He realized, too late, what he'd just said and smeared his fingers against his face in brutal defeat of stupidity. "I mean, no one is unhappy to see me." That didn't sound much better, given the first statement, and he groaned.

"What I mean to say is, it must be a hard job trying to help people and having to fight to do it." There.

He chuckled at her gratitude, thankful for the recognition of the hard work. His was hard in a much different way from hers, and he think he preferred his challenges. "I think I would too." he admitted. "That's why I make sure I always get the best kindling," he smiled over his glass as he took another sip.

"I'll have to take you up on your offer one day." a murmur, like it was a quiet promise to himself to do so. He did not dwell on it though, and when he glanced back up at her there was a playful gleam to his eye. "I bet you've got crazy stories to tell. Let's have it then."

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS