MILO
now they're standing in the door
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
If Oliver is annoyed, Milo doesn’t notice it – not as he checks the other man over to make sure nothing had happened. He’d stayed upright, which was a great sign, but from there? Milo could only offer the other man a wide grin and about as apologetic of a look as he could. A nod is granted to the no harm done, though playfully a hand reaches up to rub at his arm regardless. “Maybe a bit.” He teases, before shaking his head.
A quick glance down the alley way has Milo’s shoulders shrugging. “Racin’ some of the dock kids.” He offers, tossing his thumb over his shoulder to the group of kids playing at the end of the alley yet again. Many of them he’d grown up with, some of them he’d had to baby sit once upon a time. For now, however, Milo’s attention focuses on Oliver with that very same playful grin. “Y’don’t look like yer from around here. New to Torchline?” He asks, tilting his head.
A quick glance down the alley way has Milo’s shoulders shrugging. “Racin’ some of the dock kids.” He offers, tossing his thumb over his shoulder to the group of kids playing at the end of the alley yet again. Many of them he’d grown up with, some of them he’d had to baby sit once upon a time. For now, however, Milo’s attention focuses on Oliver with that very same playful grin. “Y’don’t look like yer from around here. New to Torchline?” He asks, tilting his head.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
