Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
"Sure you have," Mateo hollers back as he's partially ushered and partially walks inside, "everyone looks in the mirror in the morning, right?" Scowling deeply and cursing under his breath as he turns away at last - it's more because if his cut up clothes than the knife wound, it's with good-natured (read: tipsy) conversation that he accepts his attention, affections and aid from those in the tavern.
Indeed, by the time he's able to escape to the nice, safe little booth they usually sit at, there's a dressing pressed against his abdoment and he's ordered drinks to their table. "Some people," he huffs as he sidles into his seat opposite Ever, blinking up at his friend and belatedly realising how clearly uncomfortable every second of the encounter must have been. "I am sorry," he murmurs in a low voice.
Indeed, by the time he's able to escape to the nice, safe little booth they usually sit at, there's a dressing pressed against his abdoment and he's ordered drinks to their table. "Some people," he huffs as he sidles into his seat opposite Ever, blinking up at his friend and belatedly realising how clearly uncomfortable every second of the encounter must have been. "I am sorry," he murmurs in a low voice.
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
