Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Mateo, naturally, opts to pour himself a glass of punch and spike it with a little of the gin, grinning brightly to his fathers over a pair of pink sunglasses and raising his drink in a toast, before settling back in his own deckchair. He's positioned to be half in the sun and half shaded, allowing him to bask in the light when he leans right back, but otherwise protecting himself from a sunburn. "The trip down was fine," he says, brows furrowing as he pauses to sip at his drink thoughtfully.
"Actually, if I am honest, the Skyport seemed quieter than usual when I left," he continues. "Besides, it is not being in the air that feels dangerous right now. There have been more tremors, but those aren't what really bother me." He'd already explained - with vigor and vitriol - on his arrival that his shop seems to be suffering from a curse or ghosts or something of that nature, because his plants are continuing to ail.
"If this keeps up," he warns Flora, "I may be sneaking back into my room at your house for good. You can have all of your brothers under one roof."
"Actually, if I am honest, the Skyport seemed quieter than usual when I left," he continues. "Besides, it is not being in the air that feels dangerous right now. There have been more tremors, but those aren't what really bother me." He'd already explained - with vigor and vitriol - on his arrival that his shop seems to be suffering from a curse or ghosts or something of that nature, because his plants are continuing to ail.
"If this keeps up," he warns Flora, "I may be sneaking back into my room at your house for good. You can have all of your brothers under one roof."
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
