champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
”Crepuscular,” Mateo pants, nodding his agreement as if this is some sage piece of wisdom and not just a word he’s learned that he particularly likes the sound of. Automatically slowing his pace as Ever does, as if he’s matching himself to the aviator rather than the other way around, he gives a soft shake of his head. ”I am feeling good,” he assures the other man, as he would whether or not it was actually true. ”The sun is not too high yet. I will stop at the fountain at the entrance to the Celestine for a drink, though.”
Trusting that this warning will be enough for Everest to manage his expectations, Mateo falls quiet again to focus on the dull thud of their footfalls and the way he automatically tries to match his breath to the rhythm his friend keeps. As Ever has expected, though, by the time the gates of the Celestine come into view, he is definitely ready to re-hydrate, and he slows his steps to pause and take a slow, shallow sip from the drinking fountain. ”How are you feeling?” he asks. ”Good to keep going?”
Trusting that this warning will be enough for Everest to manage his expectations, Mateo falls quiet again to focus on the dull thud of their footfalls and the way he automatically tries to match his breath to the rhythm his friend keeps. As Ever has expected, though, by the time the gates of the Celestine come into view, he is definitely ready to re-hydrate, and he slows his steps to pause and take a slow, shallow sip from the drinking fountain. ”How are you feeling?” he asks. ”Good to keep going?”
