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"
Idly, he watches as Rigby stuffs the cigarette into a small pouch to keep on him and Milo finally tugs his attention away to other things, most notably the bonfires along the beach off the edge of the cliffs. They flicker and fade in the darkness of LongNight, mimicking the flame that settles on the end of his cigarette. Drawing in a deep breath, he can’t help but to snort at Rigby’s response.
The smoke burns when he does it and he wrinkles his nose before he angles his head back toward Rigby. “Pleased t’meet ya, Street Rat.” He flashes a wink of amusement toward the other man before he leans back on an elbow. “Name like that ‘n you’d think you were a parta the Ark crew.” He keeps his gaze neutral and away from Rigby, but he still keeps the man in his peripheral, as if gauging whether or not it was of interest for him.
The smoke burns when he does it and he wrinkles his nose before he angles his head back toward Rigby. “Pleased t’meet ya, Street Rat.” He flashes a wink of amusement toward the other man before he leans back on an elbow. “Name like that ‘n you’d think you were a parta the Ark crew.” He keeps his gaze neutral and away from Rigby, but he still keeps the man in his peripheral, as if gauging whether or not it was of interest for him.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
