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"
Rigby’s drawl brings a huff of a laugh from Milo – finding ease with it and agreeing with a playful tilt of his head this way and that as if he’s debating arguing the point, but decides not to. If Rigby was a successful thief, well, he supposes it made sense. He didn’t seem like most of the types Milo was used to seeing.
He flicks the end of the cigarette off the edge of the cliff, moving to stand and brush out the sand and grass that stuck to his skin and clothes, before peering back down to the darkness below with bonfires and parties raging into the never-ending night. “Well, ‘spose I’ll be seein’ ya.” He offers, a small wave given Rigby’s way, before he’s moving back on down the cliffs.
- FIN <3333
He flicks the end of the cigarette off the edge of the cliff, moving to stand and brush out the sand and grass that stuck to his skin and clothes, before peering back down to the darkness below with bonfires and parties raging into the never-ending night. “Well, ‘spose I’ll be seein’ ya.” He offers, a small wave given Rigby’s way, before he’s moving back on down the cliffs.
- FIN <3333
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
