My spores been growing by the day; my days been shining bright
"Hallo!" Mateo chimes, the picture (not) of reassurance and guidance as his attention whipcracks from whatever interesting mosses are growing between the cliffs to the tasks at hand. "Gods, there's a lot to do here, huh." As teenagers, they are certainly better than actual children in some cases, but worse in a lot of others. And there's nothing that can help Mateo's attention span either way.
"Ooh, do we get to work with a lot of these other people?" he asks, and then - almost as if he can read his best friend's tells like the back of his hand, "I bet you'd be good at the dock stuff, Ever. I can probably work on ammunition." He's always wanted to see how that sort of stuff is made. Maybe he can take some of the ammo home to test and see if he can dip it in poison or something.
"Ooh, do we get to work with a lot of these other people?" he asks, and then - almost as if he can read his best friend's tells like the back of his hand, "I bet you'd be good at the dock stuff, Ever. I can probably work on ammunition." He's always wanted to see how that sort of stuff is made. Maybe he can take some of the ammo home to test and see if he can dip it in poison or something.
mateo!
