Mateo
champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Ever wisely goes to the kitchen to deal with the logical aspects of their homecoming; Mateo, in the mean time, is stuck inside the shirt he's trying to pull over his head, gets tangled in the dress and ends up falling onto the yoga rug, which isn't nearly as soft as it ought to be in his opinion. "Fanculo," he hisses under his breath, freeing his head at last and sprawling out on the rug like it was intentional.
"Ooooh, thank you," he trills at the glass of water, though rather than sitting up and assisting in any way, he merely opens his mouth for Ever to tip the water down his throat. Maybe he'll drown, or maybe it'll work incredibly well. The key, Ever, is to try.
"Ooooh, thank you," he trills at the glass of water, though rather than sitting up and assisting in any way, he merely opens his mouth for Ever to tip the water down his throat. Maybe he'll drown, or maybe it'll work incredibly well. The key, Ever, is to try.
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
