james
smoking kills
The thief, looking entirely unworried by Sam's concern, just shrugs and lifts the bottle to his own lips. "Naw mate, this rock is the perfect temperature." He adds, almost apologetically, as if he really can't help but stay.
"What, the Governor-fella? He was fine though." Lifting the sunglasses off of his eyes and perching them on his forehead, he lazily rolls his head to the side, casually watching Sam's breakdown. "Ain't the first time I've been bit, and wouldn't be the last. If you're thirsty, that is. I don't mind, although..." Without a hint of shyness, James waggles the fingers of the hand not holding the bottle. "Can't promise I won't get a bit handsy."
but so does love.
