did you miss me enough to drink, or did you drink enough to miss me?
"Right, yea, I... that makes sense." Nate shifts uncomfortably, glad that the attention wasn't on him, while he pieced together the night he'd gotten Pemota. Not so much a fall, not really, more like a slow, downwards drag, drawn by the hands of a god. He rolls his shoulders, trying to shrug off the guilt before it has a chance to settle. There's no reason to bear anything more than he absolutely has to, and he hadn't asked for an baby to be plucked from the sky.
Pemota sings, adding her own notes the sad song, leaning into the closeness of the only kin she knows now, maybe the only kin she would ever know. It's a shame she's driven away so abruptly, Nate feeling the weight of an accusation settle onto him suddenly, though he's not entirely sure if it comes from the small whale herself, or if it's simply his mind trying to prepare him for what he's sure to come from Amalia.
He'd just wanted to get donuts, or muffins, or something sweet, and simple.
All Nate can do is offer a helpless shrug, unsure of the drama unfolding silently between the woman and his companion, though he reaches up to offer a haven of some kind as Pemota comes back to him, hands moving along the small creatures sides. There is another response from the starwhale, mournful, and confused. Not hers. At the same time, Nate answers, smiling a little stiffly as he does, not the easy, open grin he'd come in with. "I am... not exactly beloved by Safrin." He offers, trying to keep his voice mellow, keep the statement casual.
Pemota sings, adding her own notes the sad song, leaning into the closeness of the only kin she knows now, maybe the only kin she would ever know. It's a shame she's driven away so abruptly, Nate feeling the weight of an accusation settle onto him suddenly, though he's not entirely sure if it comes from the small whale herself, or if it's simply his mind trying to prepare him for what he's sure to come from Amalia.
He'd just wanted to get donuts, or muffins, or something sweet, and simple.
All Nate can do is offer a helpless shrug, unsure of the drama unfolding silently between the woman and his companion, though he reaches up to offer a haven of some kind as Pemota comes back to him, hands moving along the small creatures sides. There is another response from the starwhale, mournful, and confused. Not hers. At the same time, Nate answers, smiling a little stiffly as he does, not the easy, open grin he'd come in with. "I am... not exactly beloved by Safrin." He offers, trying to keep his voice mellow, keep the statement casual.
NATE
