#withconceit

          working odd jobs suck, especially those involving serving food to stupid students. he can still smell whatever mystery meat they had him cook on his clothes as he walks into kellan’s place, smoke already lit between his lips. ❝ dude, you BETTER have some clothes i can borrow because this shit is gross. ❞ 

          observing. that’s what killian has been doing for the better part of the last hour, though he’s pretty sure ivan would call is LURKING. he pays no mind to that, leaning his head on his forearm as he watches kellan run around the two twins until they finally tire themselves out, a smile on both of their faces as he went off to put them to bed, leaving killian alone in the living room. shuffling around, he reaches for his backpack and pulls out a container willow sent him here with and his glasses. ❝ my mom made you dinner. ❞ he says calmly once kellan enters the room again. he’s quiet for a minute, pushing the dish in the other’s direction before adding. ❝ y’know, you’re a pretty good guy -- and a good dad. ❞

                       they are  FUCKED. sure, that isn’t exactly news and no one would be surprised to hear that herschel has yet again found a way to piss off some rather unfriendly dude from a more or less problematic area of the town. it’s just a little shitty, you see, they didn’t mean to walk straight into a whole  g r o u p  of them tonight, especially while intoxicated and possibly out for blood. herschel’s blood in paricular. the bar is cramped, which is a good thing for once; it gives great possibilites to disappear and hide within the mass of people, suddenly belonging to another person. one of them happens to be seated at a table in the back and herschel, uninhibited as always, simply joins them.