some nights feel like every night
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, unless Dorian means here - here, with here being the pier. Falke chuckles courteously, taking another hit from the joint. There’s a pause while he holds it in, then exhales, the sweet, tangy smell quickly wiped away by salt and other smells. “By all means, Mr. Orator. My pier is your pier.” Such is the way of things with the Fixer. He’s an amiable ‘yes man’ until something crosses his boundaries, and even then it’s often paired with an alternative.
Dark eyes look up at an ever darker sky and he sighs to himself. “In my head I knew the stars would be different here, but I don’t think I was really prepared for it” Living in one place his whole life, seeing only one part of Safrin’s artwork at a time. The wide open-ness of Torchline is breathtaking, and he finds himself in awe of the herald, even if she wasn’t his preferred choice. “I’d almost agree to deal with sand every day if I could look up at this every night.”
Almost.
Dark eyes look up at an ever darker sky and he sighs to himself. “In my head I knew the stars would be different here, but I don’t think I was really prepared for it” Living in one place his whole life, seeing only one part of Safrin’s artwork at a time. The wide open-ness of Torchline is breathtaking, and he finds himself in awe of the herald, even if she wasn’t his preferred choice. “I’d almost agree to deal with sand every day if I could look up at this every night.”
Almost.
this one feels brand new
got good things on my mind when I'm with you
FALKE
