NATE
so take me to the paradise in your eyes
green like american money
green like american money
It's rare that Nate works without complaint, without chatter, but right now he's leaning more towards speed, precision, than he is trying to keep himself entertained. The last of the sandbags he has filled get added to the top of the barrier, and then there's a mad scramble for the bar, the backroom, and the empty bags that are there. It isn't his bar, and he's spent less time at the Hanged Man than he'd thought, so it takes him a moment to find the bags.
He emerges from the bar just in time to hear a snap, the soft tones of metal hitting the ground. "Fuck, you okay?" The question leaves him while he bends down, gathering the nails in one hand and holding them out to Raza. If her answer is affirmative, he'll get back to his task - shovelling sand into the bags as fast as he can, so he can finish off the sandbag wall. If not, well, he is a doctor, and a few moments can be spared to look her over for injury.
He emerges from the bar just in time to hear a snap, the soft tones of metal hitting the ground. "Fuck, you okay?" The question leaves him while he bends down, gathering the nails in one hand and holding them out to Raza. If her answer is affirmative, he'll get back to his task - shovelling sand into the bags as fast as he can, so he can finish off the sandbag wall. If not, well, he is a doctor, and a few moments can be spared to look her over for injury.
you taste just right
sweet like tennessee honey
sweet like tennessee honey
