（ he starts a bit, but it's a soldier's sorta start — the hummin' stops dead an' he goes tense along all the leylines of his body. he's been outta it long enough that his brain can register it ain't a potato masher before he scrambles off the edge of the bed, but he's a touch disgruntled that the fella got the drop on startlin' him. he eyes the pillow where it's layin' harmless an' inert and then he snorts.
his pillow now.
it gets picked up, fluffed with exaggerated ceremony, and added to the pile at the head of his own mattress. ）
Oh yeah? Best be leavin' you be, then, an' maybe it'll do you some good.
（ it ain't said with ire, just that sort of deadpan trash talkin' humour of a fella accustomed to joshin' with a gaggle of rowdy men. ）
i am left with the worst icon selection lmao
his pillow now.
it gets picked up, fluffed with exaggerated ceremony, and added to the pile at the head of his own mattress. ）
Oh yeah? Best be leavin' you be, then, an' maybe it'll do you some good.
（ it ain't said with ire, just that sort of deadpan trash talkin' humour of a fella accustomed to joshin' with a gaggle of rowdy men. ）