[ There's a kid in the doorway, knife in hand. This one, at least, reacts how Carver's expecting. It's familiar - almost comforting, because it means at least one truth of the world hasn't been completely sundered apart. Carver's grin goes toothy, but he doesn't lunge. Doesn't do a damn thing but stand there in a loose ready stance, and grin.
Hi, stranger. Maybe they'll kill each other now over the shit in the cabinets. Tale as old as time. ]
no subject
Hi, stranger. Maybe they'll kill each other now over the shit in the cabinets. Tale as old as time. ]
Cool. Then back the fuck up.