Wrong Kind of Thirst

Adam didn't hear Nate until he spoke, which meant he was really involved in his thoughts; usually Adam could pick up on a sound quite a while away if he was being quiet, a symptom of a lifestyle he didn't really like to talk about. The half of his life where he'd been scared and on the run and drug-addled, out of reality yet painfully dealing with the consequences of it. "Pull up a seat." He smiled, still glad to see Nate despite his surprise. The other man's face was more than welcome, the memories of a nice afternoon spent together. He wasn't half bad to look at either, which helped. As Nate sat Adam passed him the drinking horn, not yet explaining it's magical qualities. "I guess that depends on what stories you heard, right? But let's see...I went on a minotaur-killing adventure for a death God, got kidnapped, escaped, and saw a flying whale. So you could fucking say some stuff happened. How about you?" adam Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave