maybe we exist to bleed
Was it wrong to put so much trust and faith in Noah when he didn’t really know the man? He was Halovian, after all. And a hunter at that. Glas knew all of this, and yet the anxiety eats at his stomach as he follows the taller and older man into the shop. His gaze flickers around to spot the familiar types of wood he used, some a bit more decorative than others, ones that were an exciting prospect to work with – wondering how the fibers would feel and if they were a bit more flexible than some of the others, a bit more soft.
His eyes flicker back toward the movement though, briefly, as a rather large man approaches and clasps Noah on the shoulder and internally Glas shudders with the thought of being that close to someone to have them do that to him. But Noah steps aside, and Glas’ gaze is wide as it lands on Rusty, hands clutching the note he has as if it’s his only lifeline through this. The hand is jutted out and Glas’ eyes follow it, lifting one of his own to offer a shake (albeit a bit trembly, he’s new at this after all) but his hands do bear the callouses of working hands.
“I- Uh, I need some specific types of wood for my… My parent’s shop.” He manages, struggling through it before looking down at the list as if it would give him all the strength he needs, even though the answer is in his head, he knows what he’s looking for he’s the one that’s making it anyway. “Oak, Birch, and Cherry… If you have any of them.” He’s uncertain about the cherry wood, that one being outsourced and all of that. But the color was stunning and one of his favorites to work with. He’d even outfit the note with a small question mark next to it just in case.
His eyes flicker back toward the movement though, briefly, as a rather large man approaches and clasps Noah on the shoulder and internally Glas shudders with the thought of being that close to someone to have them do that to him. But Noah steps aside, and Glas’ gaze is wide as it lands on Rusty, hands clutching the note he has as if it’s his only lifeline through this. The hand is jutted out and Glas’ eyes follow it, lifting one of his own to offer a shake (albeit a bit trembly, he’s new at this after all) but his hands do bear the callouses of working hands.
“I- Uh, I need some specific types of wood for my… My parent’s shop.” He manages, struggling through it before looking down at the list as if it would give him all the strength he needs, even though the answer is in his head, he knows what he’s looking for he’s the one that’s making it anyway. “Oak, Birch, and Cherry… If you have any of them.” He’s uncertain about the cherry wood, that one being outsourced and all of that. But the color was stunning and one of his favorites to work with. He’d even outfit the note with a small question mark next to it just in case.
maybe we exist to burn
GLAS
