Hiding Beneath

He was something of a scruffy puppy, the literally dehumanizing analogy aside: perplexed, and so clearly having really just been asleep it was endearing. But hey, he’d played along. She’ll bite. “Oh yeah,” she deadpanned, letting a smile curl her mouth. “I’m a real flannel fan, ya see. Flannels for the win.”

There’s a light frown on his features, he’s still questioning the truth of the statement, and wether he had actually heard it or not. A part of him highly believe he had made a mistake, and frankly, her next words didn’t really helped him get a better grip of the situation. “Oh-- That’s-- Odd, but-- great, great-- I guess. Uh-- do you tend to stare at people’s clothing, or should I feel special?”

He freezes right in the spot, clearly uncomfurtableas he tries to make himself look smaller before a softscoff leaves his lips followed by a simple word. “No.”

“Uh–” Well that was something he clearly didn’t knew how to explain. There’s a soft sigh leavinghis lips as his head tilted softly to the side. “I–Well– She’s weird, and interesting, and somethingI’ve never seen in all my years. She’s– unique, I like that.”

      “–Not dead. Not sleeping.            Is there anything you need or             where you simply staring out of concern?”

And Dalton’s just there

having to deal with Mort’s shit.

While silently thinking:

“I’ll pee on everything you love.”

         “S- Sorry… A- Are you alright?“