Nate
"No no no." Before Isla can get a hand on the basket it's lifted up into Nate's load, above both of their heads. "I can figure something out for them. I mean, it's not like it's me eating it, right?" The laugh that chases the heels of his words covers up the trembling in his hands and the tightness of his face, at least for the moment. "I won't say no to the company. But I'm good on help. Sunjata's home, I don't need more than him." Nate licks his lips, readjusts once more, and then steps out away from the stalls, aiming for the VlamVloed.Confusion casts it's line and hooks a corner of Nate's eyebrow, reeling it up as he tips his head, almost bemused. "Why would that be what Sunjata calls it?" A huff escapes his nose, the sound trying to be a laugh, though it never quite lifts itself up. "Isla, the last thing I remember before before waking up is falling and not hitting the ground. How okay do you think things are?"
He stares into pebble blue eyes for a moment, his face dropping back into something calm, except for the tenseness around his eyes, the intensity of his stare. His feet know the way home, he doesn't need to look. "Thank you." Nate offers, enunciating the words clearly and carefully. "You don't need t worry about me though, okay? I can take care of myself. And I am!"
Do you read fuck-up in my walk?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do I mean anything at all?
