#seaportstart

stepping foot into the busiest area of the city was more stress than milo thought she could handle. people were everywhere. problems were everywhere. and she was only in one place, being one minuscule person, trying to navigate through towards the grocers. downtown was, by no means, a lonely place. especially with tourists always trying to find new places to go -- or old ones that had been recommended in one way or another. if milo could just breathe and calmly walk her way towards the building, no issues would arise. but, things never seemed to work out in her favor, because just when she could see the neon lights of the grocery store up ahead, a hand placed itself on her shoulder and she rocketed up into the air. spinning around, milo met wild eyes with whoever had managed to scare the shit out of her. 

nolan: shit who did i text..

milo: i know the place is tiny, but i just don't like being alone right now.

Slouched over the table with an elbow anchored to keep him from completely bending forward, it’s almost laughable how Zak has to physically keep his spine from straightening out. His posture had always been something he was conscious of, shoulders broadened and head held high. His father would have had a fit to see him look so lazy right now. Graphite absentmindedly etched between the lines of the notebook set in front of him, until his shoulders twitch like they know someone’s watching. And maybe they do; maybe they’ve had to readjust Zak’s posture more times than they could count at dinner parties and it’s saved him from breaking character every time. Amber eyes scanned the perimeter of Hal’s ice cream parlor and caught someone else’s gaze. “Can I help you?” The question’s got a sharp point at the end, and Zak is careless of how four simple words managed to disrupt the relatively quiet atmosphere. 

samuel: wanna do smth fun?