NATE
If it's all under control
Then what the hell am I doing
Then what the hell am I doing
The kittens, at least two of them, are throughly entranced by this latest distraction, creeping tendrils pounced upon and chased with all the clumsy enthusiasm of a baby. One stays close to Mel, the warmth of her hands, all white fluffy fur and uncontrolled claws and teeth. ”The white ones are Lizzy and Lynyrd. I can’t fucking tell them apart, but someone else can, so.” He shrugs, washing his hands of the situation with a grin. ”The orange one is Ramone.” With introductions done, and his niece rising again to join him, Nate picks up a stick and waves it.
”It is for the firling.” He rumbles, arranging the sticks in a vague star pattern, just to give an example of what he’s trying to do. ”My nonna made this look easier than it is though, I just... can’t get the sticks to keep a shape. It’s supposed to end up like a wrapped shape, and you can paint the twine.” Laughing, Nate shakes his head, then drops the craft again, gesturing to the stove. ”You want a drink?” He offers, before they sink into figuring this out, into conversations that he isn’t sure how to have.
”It is for the firling.” He rumbles, arranging the sticks in a vague star pattern, just to give an example of what he’s trying to do. ”My nonna made this look easier than it is though, I just... can’t get the sticks to keep a shape. It’s supposed to end up like a wrapped shape, and you can paint the twine.” Laughing, Nate shakes his head, then drops the craft again, gesturing to the stove. ”You want a drink?” He offers, before they sink into figuring this out, into conversations that he isn’t sure how to have.
Yelling for nothing at all
And wondering how this all happened
And wondering how this all happened
