I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through
Ever freezes for half a heartbeat at the declaration, eyebrows lifting as his eyes flick instinctively around the shop, to the door, the windows, the ceiling, as he tries to decide whether this is Mateo being Mateo or something genuinely new and dangerous. The return of the Family, perhaps?
He follows Mateo deeper into the shop, steps careful, gaze snagging almost immediately on the thin fractures spidering through the walls. That part, at least, is undeniable, and his mouth presses into a small line as he studies them. Ever’s eyes move over the plants more slowly, searching for obvious signs of distress and finding very little that stands out to him, though that any plant could be failing under Mateo’s care feels wrong in a way he can’t quite articulate, like a rule of the world quietly being broken.
"Do you have any idea what’s causing it?" he asks, voice gentle but threaded with concern, attention flicking once more from the cracks to the greenery and back again, trying to build a shape out of incomplete information. Only then does he refocus properly on his friend, tension easing just a fraction as Mateo’s presence settles into something familiar. "Hello," Ever parrots, softer now, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "It is good to see you too."
He glances around the shop again, at the rearranged displays and the unfamiliar openness of the space, discomfort prickling under his skin. "It's okay." He says off the mess, even if the words aren't convincing. He's learned long ago that the world won't remain the same simply for his comfort, least of all the spaces Mateo usually occupies.
He follows Mateo deeper into the shop, steps careful, gaze snagging almost immediately on the thin fractures spidering through the walls. That part, at least, is undeniable, and his mouth presses into a small line as he studies them. Ever’s eyes move over the plants more slowly, searching for obvious signs of distress and finding very little that stands out to him, though that any plant could be failing under Mateo’s care feels wrong in a way he can’t quite articulate, like a rule of the world quietly being broken.
"Do you have any idea what’s causing it?" he asks, voice gentle but threaded with concern, attention flicking once more from the cracks to the greenery and back again, trying to build a shape out of incomplete information. Only then does he refocus properly on his friend, tension easing just a fraction as Mateo’s presence settles into something familiar. "Hello," Ever parrots, softer now, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "It is good to see you too."
He glances around the shop again, at the rearranged displays and the unfamiliar openness of the space, discomfort prickling under his skin. "It's okay." He says off the mess, even if the words aren't convincing. He's learned long ago that the world won't remain the same simply for his comfort, least of all the spaces Mateo usually occupies.
