whiskey, smoke and aces high

bandcamp

A lot's been changin' lately and I can't tell
If it's me or if it's everybody else

"You can hang a sock on the door if you don't want to be disturbed. Isn't that how it works?" Remi asks without context; in his mind he's imagining bringing Ronin coffee and donuts and horribly greasy food with loads of carbs that the mechanic is sure to love. But he's also thinking of those moments

'Help you—oh." Looking at the spray paint like it's some sort of foreign entity, Remi blinks several times before shooting Ronin a flat stare. "You have no idea the mistake you're making." He warns, before reaching behind his shoulder blades to tug off his sweater. Below is a white shirt with quite bold and dark lettering on it, saying: PLOT. It builds character. Folding the sweater into an unhappy rectangle, Remi folds his arms (definitely not flexing as he does so), and raises a brow in Ronin's direction. "Are you going to paint in the leather jacket, or is this like strip-spray paint?"

we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses
So stop and sm?ll the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!