no bullies or bums, the chums are tens here

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

There's no audible sound, but it's a sigh of relief just the same when her laughter hits him like a chord that'd been hanging, waiting to pick up the remainder of the song after a an out of tune strum. Where she folds into his side, snug and warm, he tilts down to whisper sweet nothings into the coils of her hair. Each stride they take appears more like they've left the town drunk tank rather than her house's kitchen, a shuffling sway of affection that he prefers to stay just as is.

The trail of her words pours a scheme of a smile on him, which only spreads, then breaks into a robust laugh at Mateo's assertion. "We all know you have a big mouth Mateo, this is about skill." Departing Flora's side with her (?) drink as company to keep her now, he busies himself pulling a pack of gummy worms into hand. They're away on a shelf, no different from covert buckets of fish placed along the railings at sealion shows. Could be that this isn't the first time, or only room, where they've devised some game around the coveted treat.

"Alright Flo-ro, do your worst." He passes the bag to her like a knighting ceremony, after dumping some into his own hand of course, then flops into a nearby chair, head tilting back as he dangles a worm into his open mouth. "No cheating with your hands," he throws out, absolutely expecting Mateo to cheat otherwise (and still, probably). Then, with a gummy worm cocked and loaded in his fingers, he squints and lobs it towards the botanist.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //