NATE
i got a number on me, i got a number
won't make it through the high noon sun
won't make it through the high noon sun
The list of people to inform about his return grows shorter as days pass, though it had never really been that long to start with. Arguably, Wessex should have been one of the first faces he’d reached out to (not that anything happens face to face, the Wraith receives a note passed from hand to hand that simply says VlamVloed) but there is a certain amount of petty vinegar in Nate that he just wouldn’t be the same without.
So, the waiting. The note. The way he’s not actually in the bar, but rather tucked into a niche nearby it, a space that holds flowers and a single small chair in warmer times, but that right now gives Nate some refuge from the snow while he watches people pass and scribbles into a notebook.
He looks much the same as he has the entire time, save for the motion, the new scarring around his beleaguered eye, barely visible with the way his face twitches and shudders from one expression to the next. The restlessness doesn’t stop him from whistling sharply when he sees Wessex, catching her attention before she steps into the bar and out of the snowy evening. “Hey boss.”
So, the waiting. The note. The way he’s not actually in the bar, but rather tucked into a niche nearby it, a space that holds flowers and a single small chair in warmer times, but that right now gives Nate some refuge from the snow while he watches people pass and scribbles into a notebook.
He looks much the same as he has the entire time, save for the motion, the new scarring around his beleaguered eye, barely visible with the way his face twitches and shudders from one expression to the next. The restlessness doesn’t stop him from whistling sharply when he sees Wessex, catching her attention before she steps into the bar and out of the snowy evening. “Hey boss.”
i was a hero early in the morning
i ain't no hero in the night
i ain't no hero in the night
