“ mag's been wonderin' when you'd come around. ” his drawl cuts between the smoke of stale nicotine and poor papers, the shit he relies on now. @dirtloyal boots drag through summer green, heat the day wearing finally with humidity. summer sticks to skin even after a shower from water collected by the rain. “ she ain't in, left me in charge. ” it's a half joke, one that pulls at the corner of his mouth and moves his dying smoke. she really isn't in and he's only sort of in charge. he stays to keep an eye on everyone, especially his nephew.
shawn adjusts where he's sat, feet planted on the broken cement that leads to the few steps he's sat upon, unintentionally making space. his fingers pluck the dying smoke from his mouth, tapping the ashes to a flutter. it gets lost in the summer air in a matter of seconds. “ kind'a been wonderin' where myself too, ” he dips beside him to the pack that housed the remaining habit, he offers it instead. something to keep him for a few minutes longer. the idea of him getting lost too doesn't sit right, aches like the bare bones of a burned down barn.
