this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
"Y'know, you were actually. You knocked an' everythin'," Niki agrees, his smile growing lopsided and a touch drowsy; the twilight and the plush comfort of the bed is rapidly combining with his inebriation to make consciousness more of a chore than a choice as time goes on. "You've also slept on every couch I've ever owned now," he adds, in case for some reason the Heartless was curious to know it. "You're the only one who has, actually."
Niki doesn't count by virtue of owning them, but suffice to say he doesn't have many people for sleepovers.
"Exactly," he says with all the confident of the very drunk, waggling his finger towards Sunjata again. "Maybe I should've gotten into therapy. Then again I used to spend most've my time talkin' to dead people." It would explain why he's such a relatively good listener, and also why he doesn't speak much about himself.
Niki doesn't count by virtue of owning them, but suffice to say he doesn't have many people for sleepovers.
"Exactly," he says with all the confident of the very drunk, waggling his finger towards Sunjata again. "Maybe I should've gotten into therapy. Then again I used to spend most've my time talkin' to dead people." It would explain why he's such a relatively good listener, and also why he doesn't speak much about himself.
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
