”Either he died very young, or you look young. Or I am a terrible judge of age.” All those options seemed entirely possible, but she’s not necessarily pressing for a specific age unless Morgan feels like giving one. ”Though perhaps you are right. I always recall my parents as knowing everything, as seeming so sure, and yet I wonder if they were just doing their best. Maybe they felt as uncertain as I do.” John’s sure hands on a weapon, her mother’s constantly calm and collected demeanor. Yet if she thinks about it, doesn’t she mimic that now? Just because she doesn’t feel it doesn’t mean she doesn’t act like it.
”A bit of a stabler venture, I admit. But I have always lamented the terrible booze in Halo, and then opportunity fell into my lap. It cannot hurt to try, I hope.” She chuckles slightly, because it probably could hurt to try. Already the bar has put a strain on her relationship with Korbin, but she still hoped her brother would soften to the idea of change eventually. ”Honestly, the strangest thing is the number of people in the Tundra anymore. Coming and going from the portal, I assume. It makes it that much harder to actually hunt any game and it has become a bit harder to decide who is a threat to Halo and who just happens to be a large hulking person,” she admits, one hand reaching up to fidget with the end of her braid. ”Why do you ask, if I may?”
”A bit of a stabler venture, I admit. But I have always lamented the terrible booze in Halo, and then opportunity fell into my lap. It cannot hurt to try, I hope.” She chuckles slightly, because it probably could hurt to try. Already the bar has put a strain on her relationship with Korbin, but she still hoped her brother would soften to the idea of change eventually. ”Honestly, the strangest thing is the number of people in the Tundra anymore. Coming and going from the portal, I assume. It makes it that much harder to actually hunt any game and it has become a bit harder to decide who is a threat to Halo and who just happens to be a large hulking person,” she admits, one hand reaching up to fidget with the end of her braid. ”Why do you ask, if I may?”
weaver
-- kiss you like a whiskey fire --
