(no subject)

[rushd]

[Wind ruffles your hair.

Or... Hmm.]

Comments

im doing that thing where you think you're crying but you're actually laugh-sobbing

[corvidly]

[ Not just Morgan's hair suffers from a sudden, unseen disruption: he was just in the middle of lighting his cigarette -- a task done so many times now it's more reflexive than conscious. The pull on the tobacco stick to help the contents take to the flame his lighter presents is all too familiar, done by muscle memory following years of practice.

So when he sucks in nothing but clear air -- though a red-and-white striped straw from out of nowhere -- he grunts and pulls his head back. In his hand is no zippo, but his cigarette broken in half.

Morgan's brows crinkle deep over his nose, and he pulls the straw out of his mouth and, after regarding it with confused disdain, he throws it onto the puddle-riddled asphalt. He looks around this side alley, hearing nothing more than the muffled music from the bar he just stepped out of. ]

The hell...?