// seventeen and bad, was the best you never had and you won't, sins you never said for yourself
seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. everybody got a name, everybody got a number //
seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. everybody got a name, everybody got a number //
An orange cat, huh? The grin that spreads across Milo’s face as soon as Nate realizes the box is empty is full of amusement and childishness. He can’t help it though, not with how desperate the man seemed to be when it came to trying to catch that particular cat. But then the one eyed stare comes back for the red head, and Milo stands up a bit taller, arms crossed along his chest – sizing up this man even if he is shorter than Nate.
“Y’missin’ a cat or somethin’?” A brow raises with that question, though the edge of the grin remains. How’s he ruining it, anyway? Nate rises up to his full height and Milo’s amber gaze follows him. “Depends on the kinda cat. A housecat? Yeh, sure, why not?” He holds his arms out, summoning a jet black cat with bright blue eyes, purring in his arms that he cradles close and flashes a wider grin at Nate.
“Y’missin’ a cat or somethin’?” A brow raises with that question, though the edge of the grin remains. How’s he ruining it, anyway? Nate rises up to his full height and Milo’s amber gaze follows him. “Depends on the kinda cat. A housecat? Yeh, sure, why not?” He holds his arms out, summoning a jet black cat with bright blue eyes, purring in his arms that he cradles close and flashes a wider grin at Nate.
MILO
