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"
“Oh, ‘m sorry.” He feigns his upset. “Maybe y’could start cookin’ then if y’can do so much better.” Milo trills with a playful smirk, the grin that spreads across his face infectious even if she hides her smile behind the sandwich. He knows it isn’t his best, but he certainly thinks it’s worth it for not heating up the kitchen.
And it’s edible, which is absolutely a bonus.
He devours his sandwich before wiping the crumbs on the side of his shirt, peering back at the spider who’s made a home in the makeshift tank. And his gaze flickers to Aurelia with the story she shares, something brightening in his gaze at the nostalgia that she seems to have while speaking of it, even if she couldn’t figure out the name. “’ts okay.” He comments offhandedly, reaching over to pull her into his side for a hug. “We can come up with one?” He suggests, pausing to purse his lips, his free hand rising to tap at his chin.
“How ‘bout… Rosie?” He asks, looking back down at the tarantula, spying the orange bands around her leg as she sinks back into the comfort of the cool cover.
And it’s edible, which is absolutely a bonus.
He devours his sandwich before wiping the crumbs on the side of his shirt, peering back at the spider who’s made a home in the makeshift tank. And his gaze flickers to Aurelia with the story she shares, something brightening in his gaze at the nostalgia that she seems to have while speaking of it, even if she couldn’t figure out the name. “’ts okay.” He comments offhandedly, reaching over to pull her into his side for a hug. “We can come up with one?” He suggests, pausing to purse his lips, his free hand rising to tap at his chin.
“How ‘bout… Rosie?” He asks, looking back down at the tarantula, spying the orange bands around her leg as she sinks back into the comfort of the cool cover.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
