on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
He’s never been good at grasping his future – often one that goes from whim to whim. In fact, it was a surprise he’d stayed here as long as he has. But comfort had become something Thorn strove for, and to be honest he isn’t sure if the desert would have that. The only thing it has for him is prospect and Colt, but he can’t yet go and agree to take it on just yet. Sure, the idea remains, but the more he thinks about it logistically, the more it starts to worry him, to stress him out.
It must be obvious to Casimir how the liquor has hit him – not the usual fun and bubbliness of it. Not the way he’d become languid and even more cat-like in fluidity. This time when the liquor hits, it brings insecurities, uncertainty. And that is something that Thorn is unfamiliar with. So he watches the water as it gets slid his way, fingers stilling in their fidgeting to claim the glass. And he’s half assuming the conversation will end there, with Thorn having said too much in too short amount of time, to someone who was a constant part of his story these days even if they only ever spoke here.
He takes a sip of the water like it might wash the pining out of his chest, almost choking on it when he hears that he shouldn’t.
His seafoam gaze flits up to catch Casimir’s gaze again, brows pinched as he coughs a little and tries to ensure he hadn’t just drowned on land. “Which part?” He asks, trying to follow the line of thought, fingers stilled on the glass as his voice slips from him, hoarse and rough from the water that he’d tried to accidentally inhale. “You ‘r this?” He asks, gesturing with his free hand to the area around them.
“S’comfortable, y’know? You do your thing, ‘n I do mine, ‘n somehow we’re all a part of this big ol’ wheel that keeps rollin’ like nothin’ could go wrong. I give you shit ‘n you ignore me or give it back ‘n it’s fun. Always has been fun.” Even right now when he’s toying with what to do with his life, and it’s precisely because he’s managed to get more words out of Cas with this than he would have any other day. And perhaps, those are the lines Thorn reads between in order to realize just how much Cas might actually miss him if he did go.
It must be obvious to Casimir how the liquor has hit him – not the usual fun and bubbliness of it. Not the way he’d become languid and even more cat-like in fluidity. This time when the liquor hits, it brings insecurities, uncertainty. And that is something that Thorn is unfamiliar with. So he watches the water as it gets slid his way, fingers stilling in their fidgeting to claim the glass. And he’s half assuming the conversation will end there, with Thorn having said too much in too short amount of time, to someone who was a constant part of his story these days even if they only ever spoke here.
He takes a sip of the water like it might wash the pining out of his chest, almost choking on it when he hears that he shouldn’t.
His seafoam gaze flits up to catch Casimir’s gaze again, brows pinched as he coughs a little and tries to ensure he hadn’t just drowned on land. “Which part?” He asks, trying to follow the line of thought, fingers stilled on the glass as his voice slips from him, hoarse and rough from the water that he’d tried to accidentally inhale. “You ‘r this?” He asks, gesturing with his free hand to the area around them.
“S’comfortable, y’know? You do your thing, ‘n I do mine, ‘n somehow we’re all a part of this big ol’ wheel that keeps rollin’ like nothin’ could go wrong. I give you shit ‘n you ignore me or give it back ‘n it’s fun. Always has been fun.” Even right now when he’s toying with what to do with his life, and it’s precisely because he’s managed to get more words out of Cas with this than he would have any other day. And perhaps, those are the lines Thorn reads between in order to realize just how much Cas might actually miss him if he did go.
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
