nathan

[polyapathy]

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[polyapathy]

[If she notices the intense guzzling, she doesn't show it. She's here to crossfade, too. Speaking of, she plucks the joint out of his hand.]

My folks passed on a few years back. Car accident. It was sudden, but it was... Cleaner. And I've seen animals die, of course. It's part of growing up on a farm.

[Long story short: No, she hasn't. Not really.]

[notaquaman]

[Nathan nods, effectively giving her temporary ownership of the joint. Let all your troubles fade, girl.]

The first time I saw a dead body I threw up all over the floor. You're made of much tougher shit than I am.

[He flashes her a grin, sardonic.]

Not that you needed me to tell you that one.

[polyapathy]

[She takes a heavy hit and holds it for a long moment before passing the joint back.]

Says the guy who's died, what, like seven times?

[She's forgotten the exact number. It's more than zero, which is impressive enough for her.]

Where are you sleeping tonight?

[notaquaman]

If you must know, I shit my pants almost every time.

[He's so charming? But then he scoffs.]

Fuck if I know. That weird guy from earlier never actually gave me back my fucking clam.

[polyapathy]

Classy.

[She's not in the state to care. Oh, speaking of, time for some whiskey.]

Mm. Get yourself something to eat, then come by my room after about an hour. I need to check on Haymitch.

[She stands, but leaves the bottle on the fountain edge for him.]

For the record, tonight we're sleeping, not fucking. You'll be on the floor. I like you, but I don't know you. I'll help you get your clamshell back in the morning.

[or not because of the whole execution thing but like SOON.]