HIGH: for our muses sit on top of a roof together, sharing a bottle of booze or a joint.
( @changedbysong - i think maia and tor should have a beer or something, as a treat)
It's no Anderson Brothers' Special Lake Blend—that shit would simultaneously knock you on your ass and clear your head like you never imagined—but a couple of beers and a bottle of cheap booze poured in red solo cups would get the job done almost as well.
Tor sets the six-pack down between the two of them and plops himself down into the rickety old lawn chair that looks one wrong move away from breaking under his ass. Surprisingly, it holds.
'Don't wait up, bro,' Tor sends to Odin along their mental link, drumming his fingers against his leg. 'Gonna be out for a while.' It doesn't make a difference if Odin responds or not, but he does—he always does, unless he's dead asleep; can always count on him for that—with a gripe and a quip that makes Tor grin.
He pops the top off one of the bottles and slides it over to the kid before grabbing one for himself.
"Tell me more about that band of yours—what kind of music was it?"
@changedbysong
