Nate
“I didn’t want anything specific.” Nate mutters, lips pursing into a pout as he turns his face away from Isla. “I mean, Sunny handled a lot of the… welcome back.” It isn’t even an innuendo, not really, though that’s impossible to tell from the kilt of his voice, one that lingers long enough to confuse the emotion behind the next words. “I just… dunno, thought waking up from the dead would merit some kind of response from Her.” Nate frowns down towards Isla, looking her over quickly before glancing up again. Relics bring another strange yo-yo of his emotions, the drop lifting again as dark brows furrowed above light eyes. “We’re thinking that’s a good idea then?” He confirms, a rumble of amusement in his throat. “Yeah. So long as we have a plan, I’ll be there. S’what I’m for, after all.” A short breath huffs through his nose, Nate not bothering to replenish it before he leans his head towards the other ascended. “How’d we hear about this?”
Do you read fuck-up in my walk?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do I mean anything at all?
