MILO
this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
“Mhmm.” He hums with curls of smoke leaving his lips, his eyes watching as her gaze dips slyly away. But he speaks and she listens, and Milo finds that it’s nice. It’s nice not having to fight for the attention, nice not being talked over, everything about this was relieving in ways Milo had no idea he needed. Though red brows do raise when she tells him she doesn’t know what those places are.
And he’s silent for a moment, waiting until she offers her jest, one that causes him to bark his laughter, a wide grin spreading across his face. But he takes the cigarette, eyes her curiously and perhaps a bit roguish and amused, before taking a drag and leaning in a small amount closer as if he’s telling her a secret. “So, the Hanged Man’s the bar. The Halenani’s a brothel.” He leans back then, staring right at her for a response. “So like I said, can only use ‘em sparin’ly.” He snorts, though it isn’t like he hasn’t spent some nights in either place.
As for running, however, he pulls his gaze away from her to look back at the dying fire, to flick the ash from the cigarette as he considers it. “I’m a… Deliverer.” He says after a moment, visibly cringing at the idea of calling himself a delivery boy. “Jack ‘n the crew come back ‘n I pick up the packages ‘n take em through the Fingers. Sometimes I pick ‘em up elsewhere ‘n bring em back to the Ark.” A smirk crosses his face as he takes the hand with the cigarette and gestures to his body. “Aka, runner.”
One more drag from the cigarette, before he’s flipping it again to hand it to her, his gaze softening and lingering on her face and the way the dying firelight reflects against her cheek and her jaw. “What do you do fer ‘em?”
And he’s silent for a moment, waiting until she offers her jest, one that causes him to bark his laughter, a wide grin spreading across his face. But he takes the cigarette, eyes her curiously and perhaps a bit roguish and amused, before taking a drag and leaning in a small amount closer as if he’s telling her a secret. “So, the Hanged Man’s the bar. The Halenani’s a brothel.” He leans back then, staring right at her for a response. “So like I said, can only use ‘em sparin’ly.” He snorts, though it isn’t like he hasn’t spent some nights in either place.
As for running, however, he pulls his gaze away from her to look back at the dying fire, to flick the ash from the cigarette as he considers it. “I’m a… Deliverer.” He says after a moment, visibly cringing at the idea of calling himself a delivery boy. “Jack ‘n the crew come back ‘n I pick up the packages ‘n take em through the Fingers. Sometimes I pick ‘em up elsewhere ‘n bring em back to the Ark.” A smirk crosses his face as he takes the hand with the cigarette and gestures to his body. “Aka, runner.”
One more drag from the cigarette, before he’s flipping it again to hand it to her, his gaze softening and lingering on her face and the way the dying firelight reflects against her cheek and her jaw. “What do you do fer ‘em?”
for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
