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"
His dark gaze flickers back toward Rigby with a raise of his brow, an amused smirk on his face at the comment – also following the boy’s gaze along his outfit, along his body stretched out on the edge of the cliff. If Milo didn’t know any better, he’d say the kid was hoping to stay up here alone until he either starved to death or the sun came up – whichever came first.
Milo, for his part, isn’t easy to sway – a lot like a dog in that way, constantly wanting to stick his head into places they didn’t belong. “Th’view’s nice.” He says, pointing the glowing end of the cigarette back down the beach to the bonfires. But he pulls a drag from the cigarette, alighting his face in hues of golds and oranges as he peers back at Rigby suddenly. “Lemme guess, tho, yer up here so that’cha don’ have t’talk to anyone ‘n here I am ruinin’ that.” He snorts, as if amused by this.
Milo, for his part, isn’t easy to sway – a lot like a dog in that way, constantly wanting to stick his head into places they didn’t belong. “Th’view’s nice.” He says, pointing the glowing end of the cigarette back down the beach to the bonfires. But he pulls a drag from the cigarette, alighting his face in hues of golds and oranges as he peers back at Rigby suddenly. “Lemme guess, tho, yer up here so that’cha don’ have t’talk to anyone ‘n here I am ruinin’ that.” He snorts, as if amused by this.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
