try as he might, mars had an itch he just couldn’t scratch on his own. in fact—there was only one other person who’d ever been able to. ozwalt. they had given it a good five years this time; oz had sounded really serious the last time he’d told them to fuck off. it couldn’t be helped, though, mars thought to himself as he strolled a few yards behind oz. they could see the beaten up jean jacket, could recognize the exact holes they’d help create (and couldn’t recognize a few new ones). marceau had spent enough time trailing oz. he’d grown impatient. instead of continuing to follow oz, mars turned down an alleyway to get ahead of him. it was always more fun when their reunions were like meet-cutes. hat pulled low over their eyes as to not give the game away immediately, mars walked towards oz. they made sure they couldn’t avoid colliding, walking straight into oz’s path. “oh, excuse me.” ( @mdeinheaven​ )
