NATE
when you're good
no one remembers
no one remembers
He’s going to do it. He really is this time. There’s a fucking board around here somewhere, they have paint. ’No night calls’, like it could be that easy, like they could just avoid fate with a sign.
Instead, he picks his painful way towards the door, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders as he tries to school himself into something upright and confident, someone who’s beyond all the shit he’s been dealing with. And then he opens the door to Aurelia, and we’ll, there goes all that prep for nothing. Nate sags against the doorframe when he sees the arbiter, relief all too stark in his face.
Nate lifts a brow, his head tipping to the side as he gathers himself, considering the unasked question. “I think... Sunny might have a pack in his office. C’mon.” He leads her towards the offices, leaving the moonlight streaming through the windows to be the only illumination. Sitting on the desk, he gestures to one of the chairs, giving her a moment to sit while he fishes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, slipping two smokes out and lighting them between his lips before he offers one out to the arbiter.
“So.” He tries to pass it off as an invitation, though his entire demeanour says he would really rather not talk about anything that’s happened in the last month. Would rather not think about it. Not be living it. “Here you are.”
Instead, he picks his painful way towards the door, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders as he tries to school himself into something upright and confident, someone who’s beyond all the shit he’s been dealing with. And then he opens the door to Aurelia, and we’ll, there goes all that prep for nothing. Nate sags against the doorframe when he sees the arbiter, relief all too stark in his face.
Nate lifts a brow, his head tipping to the side as he gathers himself, considering the unasked question. “I think... Sunny might have a pack in his office. C’mon.” He leads her towards the offices, leaving the moonlight streaming through the windows to be the only illumination. Sitting on the desk, he gestures to one of the chairs, giving her a moment to sit while he fishes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, slipping two smokes out and lighting them between his lips before he offers one out to the arbiter.
“So.” He tries to pass it off as an invitation, though his entire demeanour says he would really rather not talk about anything that’s happened in the last month. Would rather not think about it. Not be living it. “Here you are.”
when you're bad
no one forgets
no one forgets
