gravity don't mean that much to me
The tea is nice, especially for how shitty and cold it is outside. At least in here, there’s a warm cup between his hands and a fire at his side, drying off the rain that’s stuck to his skin, plastered to his clothes. He almost feels normal again, especially when his question is met with such shock. The sputtering, the rest of it, wide eyes flitting to Milo’s own. Still, the smuggler smirks behind his cup, lowering it to the table as he leans a bit further on it.
“Well, there ain’t much else t’do in Monsoon season.” He begins, as if it was any other explanation needed. “And yer stayin’ at his house. Just sorta pointed that way t’me.” A rise and fall of bronze shoulders as he huffs out a small laugh once again. “Didn’t mean to press a button.” And he hadn’t, not really. Just unable to read the room so much as he was someone that let everything run without a filter.
“Well, there ain’t much else t’do in Monsoon season.” He begins, as if it was any other explanation needed. “And yer stayin’ at his house. Just sorta pointed that way t’me.” A rise and fall of bronze shoulders as he huffs out a small laugh once again. “Didn’t mean to press a button.” And he hadn’t, not really. Just unable to read the room so much as he was someone that let everything run without a filter.
now i'm floating near the atmosphere
no shackles on my feet
MILO
