⌚
@snickeriarbete | send ⌚ to ask my muse what time it is.
Lorenzo doesn’t usually have people come up to him and ask him for anything, considering the bitchy expression he leaves resting on his face, most people don’t tend to go for him when it comes to such things in public.
So every time it happens, he’s very surprised, and very annoyed — that look is usually there for a reason, he likes being left alone.
“Time?” he tries not to stutter, looking around for a clock, wondering why the hell this man thinks he has one in his brain or some shit. “Around noon, probably? I don’t fucking know.”
incazzatto:
Lorenzo sighed “I don’t bring my phone when I’m on break. No use for it if I’m napping,” he grumbled. “There’s probably a clock inside. But I’m on break, so it’s around noon. Maybe one. I don’t know.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. Sorry for disturbing you. I just need to be somewhere at two and I wanted to not be late so I was curious how much time I had to work with.”
“Well. It’s about noon. That’s when my break starts and I got out here about 10 minutes ago,” he mumbled, stretching out on the bench like a cat.












