"Smells like a fuckin' locker room." Never mind the fact that you wouldn't know what a locker room is: the comparison remains apt. Sweat and hormones are dripping off the pair of 'em, even the one who can't sweat anymore, and the result was absolutely sickening. Fucking hilarious, but still. Sickening.
You do not avert your gaze on your return to the shop, instead affixing the insufferable pair with your best sardonic dad expression. "Sure you will," you murmur in response to Nate's declaration of impending doneness, pointedly raising up an eyebrow. Something nothing wants to see, the two of them finishing up.
Staying in the front, you go about picking up debris from the ground, tidying up some nondescript mess because your writer is tired and can't think of anything. Not that it matters, because once again you're more focused on keeping an eye on Nate and Jata than actually being helpful. The sooner they're gone the sooner you can aid Sam in getting the actual work wrapped up.
You do not avert your gaze on your return to the shop, instead affixing the insufferable pair with your best sardonic dad expression. "Sure you will," you murmur in response to Nate's declaration of impending doneness, pointedly raising up an eyebrow. Something nothing wants to see, the two of them finishing up.
Staying in the front, you go about picking up debris from the ground, tidying up some nondescript mess because your writer is tired and can't think of anything. Not that it matters, because once again you're more focused on keeping an eye on Nate and Jata than actually being helpful. The sooner they're gone the sooner you can aid Sam in getting the actual work wrapped up.
and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deckbut you're my king and i'm your lionheart
creatures lurk below the deckbut you're my king and i'm your lionheart
