It strikes Tim that he owes Kate Marsh and her cute freckles several long apologies. And also he kind of wants to shake hands with Jesus.
B is picking up what he's puttin' down and there is a God after all.
The magic fizzles out quickly, but Tim allows himself that one moment to bask in the win of simple, human communication.
"Yeah, nah," he huffs. Thinks he picked up that yeah-no habit from one of the midwesterners. They're dead now. He did good on his promise to himself to stop learning names. It's bitter, and not at all sweet. Anyway. "I can walk. Thanks."
As he has been doing.
Tim frowns, steels himself, and stands.
Ta-fucking-da.
"High proof. Low sugar. How many of the people here are labeling their moonshine? Since you know the homebrew scene better than I do."
no subject
B is picking up what he's puttin' down and there is a God after all.
The magic fizzles out quickly, but Tim allows himself that one moment to bask in the win of simple, human communication.
"Yeah, nah," he huffs. Thinks he picked up that yeah-no habit from one of the midwesterners. They're dead now. He did good on his promise to himself to stop learning names. It's bitter, and not at all sweet. Anyway. "I can walk. Thanks."
As he has been doing.
Tim frowns, steels himself, and stands.
Ta-fucking-da.
"High proof. Low sugar. How many of the people here are labeling their moonshine? Since you know the homebrew scene better than I do."
A.ny.way.
"You been to Lakeside yet?"