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"
She straightens more toward him and his red brows rise high at her grin, letting his own tug across his face. He remembers. He also remembers the rambutan wine that had turned out incredible, so much so that he still has some left provided Rigby hadn’t found his stash and drained it all. And Milo leans toward her, then, reaching up to lift her chin with his hand, to press a soft kiss to her lips before he’s pulling away with a crooked smile. “I think y’should.” He comments with a wink, pulling away a fraction.
He pulls her into his side and she melts into it. The smuggler can feel eyes on him but he focuses intensely on the tarantula within the tank, a soft laugh leaving him as she repeats the name. “Rosie, then.” Milo murmurs, keeping that boyish smile on his face before he finally tilts his head to look at her, peering down as she rests her chin on his shoulder.
“Depends. D’ya want us on th’Ark again ‘r d’ya wanna spend the season cuddled up inside?” There’s a playful bounce of his brow, before he’s giving her shoulders a squeeze.
He pulls her into his side and she melts into it. The smuggler can feel eyes on him but he focuses intensely on the tarantula within the tank, a soft laugh leaving him as she repeats the name. “Rosie, then.” Milo murmurs, keeping that boyish smile on his face before he finally tilts his head to look at her, peering down as she rests her chin on his shoulder.
“Depends. D’ya want us on th’Ark again ‘r d’ya wanna spend the season cuddled up inside?” There’s a playful bounce of his brow, before he’s giving her shoulders a squeeze.
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
