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"
Milo can’t help the huff of a laugh that leaves him with Rigby’s declaration. A crooked smirk sent the boys way while he flicks a bit of ash off the cigarette, his head tilting this way and that. “Yeah, I ‘spose y’would.” He returns, huffing another laugh and lifts the cigarette to his lips again. He peers out at the bonfires and the parties down below, offering a shrug at the mention of Jack should Rigby notice.
“’m not sure if anyone gets along with Jack, t’be fair.” He replies, dramatically swinging his head back toward Rigby with the air of a sigh that passes past his lips encased with smoke. “’m sure half the time he jus’ wants t’get everyone t’leave him be. Sounds a bit familiar, yeah?” the crooked smile that crosses his face with this is a bit more mischievous in comparison.
“’m not sure if anyone gets along with Jack, t’be fair.” He replies, dramatically swinging his head back toward Rigby with the air of a sigh that passes past his lips encased with smoke. “’m sure half the time he jus’ wants t’get everyone t’leave him be. Sounds a bit familiar, yeah?” the crooked smile that crosses his face with this is a bit more mischievous in comparison.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
