PICK A PLACE TO DIE where it’s high and dry! the first mistake tamasin makes is to acknowledge the man, asking a question of concern;  hasn’t your mother told you to beware the big bad wolf? “      i’m-      “ he curses, casts a scornful stare at the grassy ground; scuffs his heel into the dirt and stomps; exclaims a growl of frustration ( skin glows golden and charcoal creeps onto nose and cheeks ), “     -okay. i’m fine- it could’ve been better, fer sure-     “ he does not see the calculating grin behind compassionate mask. 

his musty coat is pulled closer to tamasin’s body, letting the warmth envelop him ( there’s nothing he can pull out to stoke a flame- all of his items are gone, like always- hate the sin, love the sinner. ) “       but, i mean- it’s fine! it’s good, it’s- i’ll just- y’know, build it up again, fuckin’ make everything aga-     “ and he bursts aflame- fiery locks spark and sputter and come alight ( fingers grasp tightly the compass tied onto his neck; hidden under his shirt. )