some nights feel like every night
The underground trade of Torchline does not disappoint. Usually the Fixer comes with his own supply of calming agents, but he’d left his little green pouch right by the dispensary, mid-selection and filling, if he recalls correctly. And as he’s no desire to partake in the local alcohol selection, Falke wanders down to the Port to see if any sailors or subjectively described ‘riff-raff’ could hook him up.
And oh, they do not disappoint.
The quality is nowhere near the smoothness of his own strains, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at it, particularly when his hip begins to ache and his mind can’t quite settle down for the night (and he couldn’t blame it, it was always this way when thoroughly intrigued by something new). Maybe next time he’ll return with his research assistant and the two of them can stay up all night instead. Maybe, maybe.
But for now, the clouds are gone and the stars are brilliant. Safrin and Rae have outdone themselves here, he thinks, as he settles himself on an empty dock, leaning against a mooring pole. The light of his joint glows in the darkness, the slap of the waves against the wood rhythmic and soothing. Falke begins to relax.
And oh, they do not disappoint.
The quality is nowhere near the smoothness of his own strains, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at it, particularly when his hip begins to ache and his mind can’t quite settle down for the night (and he couldn’t blame it, it was always this way when thoroughly intrigued by something new). Maybe next time he’ll return with his research assistant and the two of them can stay up all night instead. Maybe, maybe.
But for now, the clouds are gone and the stars are brilliant. Safrin and Rae have outdone themselves here, he thinks, as he settles himself on an empty dock, leaning against a mooring pole. The light of his joint glows in the darkness, the slap of the waves against the wood rhythmic and soothing. Falke begins to relax.
this one feels brand new
got good things on my mind when I'm with you
FALKE
