the earth has music for those who listen
Now it's Mateo's turn to think he's having a stroke. Or he would, if he knew what a stroke was, because as Ever comes and introduces himself, the boy swears for a second that something must be very wrong for his friend to not know who he is. "I know who you are, Ever," he says quickly, the melodic tone of his accent growing thicker with masked pain. "I will be okay, I think it is just a sprain." It absolutely isn't, and Ever is right to pull out all the stuff that he does, but it doesn't fill Mateo with glee.
"What is all of that?" he asks, his arm remaining cradled against his chest (and oh boy, it's starting to swell). "You sure you don't want to jump? I did not make it look as fun as it probably is."
"What is all of that?" he asks, his arm remaining cradled against his chest (and oh boy, it's starting to swell). "You sure you don't want to jump? I did not make it look as fun as it probably is."
