MORGEN
Come down from your fences
It's been a while since Morgen pottered around a fire with someone else that he finds himself simultaneously charmed and annoyed by the little dance their hands and fingers have to do to keep out of each other's way. Opting to roughly chop some vegetables with the knife he keeps on his belt rather than overthink something that didn't bear thinkin' too hard about, Morgan plops himself down and begins to do just that.
"So what keeps you in the Grounds then?" The wrangler wonders, clearly a master of conversation. Slipping vaguely oval-shaped disks of carrot and mushroom into the pot, Morgen clanks the lid on top to let the stew stew.
"Fuck that." Morgen laughs abruptly. Removing his hat and wiping his sweaty brow with his arm, the wrangler bangs at the brim of it to clear it of dust, but opts to set it down in the grass instead of back on his head. Raking his fingers through thinning snarls of blonde hair, he gives his head a stern shake. "Ain't no price high enough t'make me want to stand around all day and give pony rides." Pausing, Morgen twists his lips for a moment before adding: " 'specially not in this heat." Because what are two old men to talk about, if not the weather.
"So what keeps you in the Grounds then?" The wrangler wonders, clearly a master of conversation. Slipping vaguely oval-shaped disks of carrot and mushroom into the pot, Morgen clanks the lid on top to let the stew stew.
"Fuck that." Morgen laughs abruptly. Removing his hat and wiping his sweaty brow with his arm, the wrangler bangs at the brim of it to clear it of dust, but opts to set it down in the grass instead of back on his head. Raking his fingers through thinning snarls of blonde hair, he gives his head a stern shake. "Ain't no price high enough t'make me want to stand around all day and give pony rides." Pausing, Morgen twists his lips for a moment before adding: " 'specially not in this heat." Because what are two old men to talk about, if not the weather.
open the gate
