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"
He’s about to ask what he needs free maps for, before a thought occurs to him. It doesn’t remain in his head long, not as Sam continues on – talking of counters and getting better. Milo would be lying if he didn’t feel his blood heat, at least a fraction of an amount while he moves to go and sweep up a bit more, trying to pull some of the dirt into a corner before he moves on and begins to dust the rest of the space. “Y’liked the counter?” Milo asks, casting an amused glance back toward Sam. It’s not like he’ll complain though, he’ll take it either way if he gets to feel the heat of a bite again.
The mention of spiders, though, has a smirk crossing Milo’s face – a nod offered as he grabs a different type of broom, one made more specifically for dusting cobwebs and spiderwebs alike – running it along the edges of the corridor and the frames of the doors. “Not a fan of ‘em? Th'spiders, that is.” He asks, making a note not to summon them even as a joke.
The mention of spiders, though, has a smirk crossing Milo’s face – a nod offered as he grabs a different type of broom, one made more specifically for dusting cobwebs and spiderwebs alike – running it along the edges of the corridor and the frames of the doors. “Not a fan of ‘em? Th'spiders, that is.” He asks, making a note not to summon them even as a joke.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
