“i never did believe in miracles.”
“Better start believing.” His voice is even more of a raspy drawl, owing to smoke inhalation, and most of an eyebrow is singed off, but he’s smiling-- and most importantly alive.
Will impacts with a heavy thump against Sarge’s front and Sarge wraps his right arm around him, burying his face in the messy brown waves atop Will’s head and exhaling slowly, his cigar dropping to the ground forgotten.















