his lips purse together around the cigarette as love speaks , holding it there as iris’s avoid meeting each other . lucios right , but the cowboy wished thoughts had just stayed thoughts . a conversation well needed had been put aside countless times , and so would be again . it would be easier to act as if things were still in that , now all too embarrassing , lovey-dovey phase , at least for him . with an exhale of smoke , solemn look is replaced with forced grin , pushing up from where he sat . pretending nothing had been spoken was easiest . ` we’ll be back in a week or two , pretty sure . ` eyes still looking anywhere but the musician’s face, still wrapped up in bed sheets . ` goin’ to venezuela i think . bring ‘ya some frog souvenir or some shit . `