MILO
now they're standing in the door
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
There are few things that manage to distract the young smuggler in terms of ‘weirdness’. A floating whale, though? Certainly on that list to investigate. The storms are letting up but the waves remain choppy, dark, threatening. A thing Milo’s used to, unsure if this strange woman he’s never seen before is familiar with the end of monsoon season and what it brings.
So naturally, the boy draws closer.
It isn’t until he’s a few steps away from Amalia that he chimes out toward her. “’Scuse me, miss!” A wave given and a wide grin. “Is that a floating whale?” He juts his chin toward Jyoti, red hair clinging to his face as if he’d just been through a downpour of rain, even the clothes he wears cling to his skin.
So naturally, the boy draws closer.
It isn’t until he’s a few steps away from Amalia that he chimes out toward her. “’Scuse me, miss!” A wave given and a wide grin. “Is that a floating whale?” He juts his chin toward Jyoti, red hair clinging to his face as if he’d just been through a downpour of rain, even the clothes he wears cling to his skin.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
