I couldn't get the boy to kill me but I wore his jacket for the longest time
Nate's instincts are good enough to keep him from looking back down into the depths, to keep him from psyching himself out with something that is actually real. Instead, he looks up, towards the light that slowly begins to filter from above, and to Wessex, her offer. It's tempting, but at the same time, not, not really. There is temptation in the idea of answers, of an actual meeting with what is essentially his sire. It loses it's allure at the thought, nagging and frustrated, that though the meeting would be for his benefit, there would only be an answer because of Wessex. Or whomever accompanied him.
I'll think about it. Get all my questions in a nice little order, in case it's the only chance I get to ask them. Nate manages to actually make that sound like a joke, instead of a bitter snipe. Then, after a moment of quiet, of a squirming discomfort on Nate's end. Thank you. For the thought.
I'll think about it. Get all my questions in a nice little order, in case it's the only chance I get to ask them. Nate manages to actually make that sound like a joke, instead of a bitter snipe. Then, after a moment of quiet, of a squirming discomfort on Nate's end. Thank you. For the thought.
NATE
