we're never done with killing time

ADAM it's not a cry for help, it's just a cry for connection. Adam always looked a little scruffy; in fact, if asked, he had even been known to call it his thing. The carefully selected sloppiness, with just enough good placement to still be attractive, was designed to the last detail to appear casual. Even his pose, tilted onto one foot with a smirk, was something he had practiced for a long time to get right. "You already pissed...?" He asked, unsure of what 'I'm all set' meant (it did not occur to Adam that she could just not want to have a drink). The bow, though, that was enough to drag his attention. Taking it from her he carefully held it up, as if scared to hold it too hard at first, then he brought it closer and drew the string back, firing a phantom arrow over towards his window. At the moment where it would have hit, he grinned and looked to her. "That's fucking awesome. Thanks, damn." He brought the bow down again to look at it closer, stroking his fingers over the wood. "I can't believe you took all the time to make this for free." i'd trade my life and health, to make people pay attention. I'd sacrifice myself for the sake of entertainment.