Mateo
Mateo only has time to glimpse the, er, personality that his father's arm suddenly possesses, before it doesn't matter any more (sorry, arm). They can talk about it later, probably. "I missed you too, Dad," he murmurs, happily squeezed tight in a hug that he feels like he needed months ago. "Ah, no non sei," he teases, smiling hard enough to set off the dimples in his cheeks as he looks up at Remi.
"Besides, we saw each other in the desert not long ago, no?" You know, for Flora's drahmah-tic farewell Enzo's last goodbye.
He doesn't particularly want to step back, and he's more interested in painting the expression on Remi's face than the horizon (so he can keep it for himself to look at in secret when he needs it). Alas, all things must end, and Mateo extracts himself to lean casually against the wall. "What do you think of the city now that it is half in the sky?" he asks.
"Besides, we saw each other in the desert not long ago, no?" You know, for Flora's drahmah-tic farewell Enzo's last goodbye.
He doesn't particularly want to step back, and he's more interested in painting the expression on Remi's face than the horizon (so he can keep it for himself to look at in secret when he needs it). Alas, all things must end, and Mateo extracts himself to lean casually against the wall. "What do you think of the city now that it is half in the sky?" he asks.
i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
