MILO
now they're standing in the door
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
A snort is given back to Oliver’s comment – knowing full well what the blonde man meant, but still poking fun where he could. So he rolls back a bit on his heels, his thumb arcing back toward the group of kids at the end of the dock that were beginning another round in a space far less populated. “Usually I let the youngin’s win.” He says quietly, as if he’s telling a secret, flashing a wink Oliver’s way before an easy grin spreads across his face. “I like to make ‘em work for it though. Think they’re gonna lose. Makes their ‘win’ all that much sweeter, y’know?” A shrug of his shoulders here and there, a tilt of his head.
But then he’s asking if Oliver is new, his gaze focused a bit more intently on the other man when the answer comes. “Ahhh, th’Grounds.” Milo rumbles before he’s beginning to walk, imagining that Oliver might follow him. “Nev’r been. What’s it like?” He turns his head to look back over his shoulder at the other man.
But then he’s asking if Oliver is new, his gaze focused a bit more intently on the other man when the answer comes. “Ahhh, th’Grounds.” Milo rumbles before he’s beginning to walk, imagining that Oliver might follow him. “Nev’r been. What’s it like?” He turns his head to look back over his shoulder at the other man.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
