so you laugh to clear the
lump from your throat
josiah moore ○ josie ○ 26
☼ taurus ☽ cancer ↑ sagittarius
mechanic ○ bartender oc for roswell-rp
penned by chaka
aaron taylor-johnson & he/him / cismale ‷ watch out , josiah moore has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty six years old and celebrate their birthday on may 2nd. they are from roswell, new mexico, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a mechanic at sanders autobody and a bartender at the wild pony . one thing you should know about him is that he has a small apiary set up behind his trailer where he’s homed three separate colonies of bees . ‷
name: josiah barnabas moore
nickname: jo , jos , josie ( but only if you know him or have a death wish! )
birthday: may 2, 1995
zodiac: ☼ taurus ☽ cancer ↑ sagittarius
orientation: bisexual , closeted
relationship status: single
☽ ⋆ THE BIOGRAPHICAL BITS
TW: illness , cancer , medical
☽ ⋆ chances are , if you’ve lived in roswell longer than a decade or two , you knew him as little josie moore , the youngest of the handful of moore kids ; always a little more shy , quiet than the rest of his siblings , he was most easily found by searching instead for his mother , laurel moore , and then finding the small fist wrapped up in the gauzy chiffon of her summer dresses because he was almost always by her side
☽ ⋆ grew up his entire life in roswell ; his father worked at fornax growing up and his mother supplemented their modest income by selling her art and paintings and homemade jewelry at the community market on the weekends ; he’d often come with her and hide under the table from the sun with a book or a drawing pad while his older brothers and sisters ran amuck amongst the booths and tables ; she also sold local honey from the bees she raised and cared after , a hobby she passed on to him as he got older
☽ ⋆ in such a small , unassuming home , it was hard to ignore the fights that broke out between his parents growing up ; he doesn’t remember much of the context of it ( probably because he’d tried to bury it over the years ) but he still remembers the shouting matches , the shattering of glasses and dinnerware as they were thrown into walls ; he was thirteen when his parents divorced , and those of his siblings who hadn’t already abandoned roswell for school or simply for change of scenery all packed up to go with his father ; all except josie , anyhow , who ( for all that he disliked the tourist town where he was raised ) cried and begged to stay with his mother
☽ ⋆ once he graduated high school, jo quickly got a job at sanders’ autobody ; it wasn’t until his mother fell ill a few years later that he picked up a second job bartending at the wild pony to help pay the bills ; their trailer , modest little thing that it was , has all been paid off , but the medical bills have been astronomical ; he still lives with her , drives her back and forth to doctor’s appointments between jobs , but she’s not responding well to medication or chemo anymore ; he’s scared , but he’s not opened up to anyone about it , simply throwing himself further into work
☽ ⋆ jo’s not a fan of tourists or newcomers , and in spite of his mother’s love for the lore that she often tried to push onto him , he’ll swear up and down he doesn’t believe any of the bullshit about ufos or aliens ; this isn’t a pitstop for space ships , it’s his home , and he’d like it very much if you could treat it with a little respect
☽ ⋆ if you don’t know him , he can come off as standoffish and brusque , absolutely a bit of an asshole ; he’s private and closed off and doesn’t talk much about himself or his family ; if you do know him well , though , he’s fiercely loyal and protective and would honestly literally die for you ; actually a very fun drunk if you can get him drinking , until he’s not — a shot or two past his limit and he can get mean , a little aggressive ; that said , the limit is pretty damn high
wednesday nights had usually been spent curled up on her couch, interrogation tapes serving as background noise as she drummed up notes for scheduled trials as she prepped her defense. a bottle of wine would be opened, a second even lie in waiting on the counter with an array of notepads scattered across her couch. it was routine for her but she knew better than to solidify herself to anything concrete, not with her family. so when the phone rang and a weathered voice emits from her phone she’s out of her house in seconds with a couple waters and a pack of ice. she doesn’t necessarily agree with josiah’s choice of therapy but she knows better than to talk him out of it, his anger is something she shares but her actions are rather mixed with a drinking problem and picking fights at the bar.. though sparrow prevents the latter. their vices are all unique but are rooted so deep in the moore curse that her grip on the steering wheel is tight on her way to her little brother.
her gaze ever so often switches to josiah as she drives them away from the fight club, pushing the ice pack back towards him though she’s sure he’ll refuse it for the 4th time. an old def leppard cd could be heard softly in the background as his voice reaches her ears and she can only allow a soft laugh to escape her lips as she nods a bit. “you’re never out of favors with me josie, you know that.” she assures.
☽
even the stubborn, bull-headed ego of the youngest moore was no match for the throbbing in his skull, in his face from where it had made impact with knuckles and hard rubber, and there are only so many times he can swat away her hand when she holds out the ice pack before jo finally relents and takes it from her grasp. there’s an audible groan of relief the moment ice cold meets the scruff of a swollen jaw. josiah lets his head fall against the headrest, face sandwiched between the cold compress and the seat as he looks over at his sister. you’re never out of favors with me, josie. he knows as much is true without being told — she’s always gone out of her way to make sure he was alright, to make sure he was taken care of when they were growing up. jo knows his sister’s soft spot for him mirrors his own for her ( he fidgets absently with the woven bracelet around his wrist, one that’s been tied there more than a decade ) and he tries not to abuse it, but he’s feeling weak tonight and it’s a simple enough thing to ask after all, even for someone who tries his best not to ask anything of those around him. he’s made it this long on his own, just him and mama, but he’d be damned if he said it didn’t feel nice to have someone look out for him too sometimes.
❝ can you stop at the chevron gas down the road a bit? ice pack’s helpin’ — thank you, by the way, ❞ he mumbles into the cool surface, ❝ but i feel like a cherry coke slushie might help too. ❞ and suddenly he feels like he’s back in middle school, in the seat of his sister’s car and asking her to stop on the way home from picking him up for getting in trouble at school, a small attempt at procrastinating because he knew once he got home, he’d either be getting shouted at or getting his ass whooped by his father for acting out. jade’s car, rides home with her, they’d always been one of the few safe places for josiah. even now, he can’t help but feel that way. ❝ sparrow’s watchin’ mama tonight, so maybe... maybe you could get one too and we could watch some shitty late night tv or somethin’? i probably shouldn’t be sleepin’ for at least a couple of hours. ❞`
wyatt was a published author, a mildly famous one too, and yet it was still so easy for him to forget that. despite living in a comfortable home with two rooms and enough space for his daughter to play in the backyard now, it was almost like he was still stuck in his teenage self, having to work odd jobs in order to help feed his younger siblings. but he’s put right back into his place when josiah comments on the obvious, pursed lips as he nods. “sorry.” he mumbles, shutting down the door behind them once his brother is inside his home. didn’t feel like home yet, roswell didn’t, but he’d gladly call it for as long as he’d have to. “still feels weird to be back.” wyatt shrugs. he supposes it’s nice that nobody’s calling him weird and homophobic slurs anymore but walking down the street and having eyes on him still made him uncomfortable. that’s what he liked about the bigger cities — nobody really gave a shit about who he was. the tension slips away from his shoulders, giving way to a warm smile to pull at his lips. “yeah, bentley’s out in the backyard. ya know, he’s a stray that i found back in new york and my daughter begged me to take him in. couldn’t really say no to her.” he chuckles under his breath. “c’mon, let’s go out there and share a few of these beers.”
☽
❝ don’t be sorry. i ain’t upset about it. are you? ❞ a simple question, made even simpler by the fact that it doesn’t require an answer. josiah knows his oldest brother didn’t mean any harm with his words, nor their implications. he doesn’t know any better himself, but he imagines for the rest of them it wouldn’t have been too hard to forget where they’d come from, where they called home the moment something better, something brighter appeared on the horizon. jo’s horizon, though, it’s always been the roswell skyline, the trees on the edge of frazier woods. it’s familiar to him, comfortable, but he’d never really held it against his siblings that they couldn’t find the same sort of solace here that he has. ❝ i bet it does feel weird, city boy. that’s called sunshine, vitamin d. and by the looks of it, you ain’t been getting enough of it out in that concrete jungle. ❞ his words are teasing, playful in a way reserved almost exclusively for family. at wyatt’s suggestion, jo steps out of the way to allow him the chance to lead the way, as made evident by the wide gesture he makes with the hand carrying the six-pack.
❝ still can’t believe i’ve had a niece for almost a whole damn decade and this is my first time meetin’ her. an’ don’t you let me forget, i got something out in the bed of the truck for her too. ❞ and he did. it wasn’t much, nothing like what her father could afford to gift her now, of course, but he’d spent any time he had off the past few weeks cleaning up and refurbishing and painting her dad’s old bike, the one wyatt used to ride when the moore kids would hit the streets of roswell in search of something to get into something like twenty years ago. and yeah, it may have been old, but he’d be hard-pressed to say the thing didn’t clean up nice once he’d replaced the gears and the chain and the brakes. ❝ sounds like she got you wrapped around her little finger though, huh?❞
❝ thank you for pickin’ me up. ❞ if the words sound slightly muffled, it’s only because of the cotton he’s stuffed into his cheek to stop the bleeding from where he’d managed to bite right through the flesh as a fist connected with his jaw earlier in the evening. they’re sincere, though, as much is clear as josiah shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat of his older sister’s car, turns to better face her and lets a mess of matted curls drop against the headrest with a soft thud. there aren’t too many people he’s made privy to his more private pastime, a hobby that’s more balled fists and bloodied bandages than anything else, but jade is one of the few people in his life he’s allowed past all the walls he’s built up. normally on nights like these, he’d be in the company of another blonde, one who’d waste little time in urging him right into the back of her red jetta after a few rounds in the ring and clean up his cuts, press kisses to his bruises the moment they got home. but it’s a wednesday and he knows those aren’t his days, the only days that aren’t his days, and so he’d driven himself to fletcher’s fight club and he’d had every intention of driving himself back home. that was, of course, until he’d gotten his lights knocked out and come back to double vision and a vague sense of dizziness he couldn’t quite shake. after taking a second or two to collect himself, there was only one other person he’d call. jade. his big sister.
there’s something vaguely familiar about the entire scenario, the way it feels like he’s suddenly been transported back fifteen or so years, and mama’s sent her to come pick him up from the principal’s office after getting suspended for getting into a fight with a kid on the playground. his smile is lopsided, barely visible in the dim light of the car as he looks over at his sister fondly. ❝ am i shit outta favors tonight, or could i maybe ask you one more? ❞
it wasn’t unlike them to speak through silence . they weren’t the first twins to have some sort of secret code ; glances , nods and murmurs could speak volumes and , often times , held more sincerity than the english language could . downturned solemn eyes continued to stare ahead at josiah in a silent admission that they weren’t okay but , if their younger twin didn’t bring it up and continued mumbling on about bees and their idiosyncrasies , they’d forever remain beneath the veil of silence . “ – at least my breath doesn’t smell like dirty assholes . “ they retorted , and although words sounded playful the deadpan delivery was anything but . words were devoid of emotion as if spoken by siri . the insult may have been juvenile , soft in comparison to sparrow’s usual quips , but it was at least an attempt at normality as they fought the urge to inhale the lingering scent of marcos that clung to the ends of their fingertips . although reluctant it took only a moment until sparrow was joining josiah in hauling straps as instructed .
“ you do realise this is , like , the lamest hobby you could’ve ever picked , right ?? this is gonna knock your street cred worse than any of your other weird habits . who’s ever heard of a moore going soft . “ boots took them toward their brother and there sparrow stood , straps in hand , staring at the other for direction . they couldn’t say they actively had a hobby , not in the way that their younger counterpart did – they spent time blemishing brick walls and underpasses with spray paint whilst blaring nirvana at the highest volume and that was as close to a pasttime as they were ever going to get . a small part of them probably even envied josiah ( a minuscule , tiny part ) for finding a passion when their upbringing had led to such a passionless existence . “ – but don’t they , like , bully out the guy bees when they can’t fuck anymore ?? that’s some queen shit . that i can get behind . “
the words are enough to elicit a snort from the youngest moore as he shakes his head at the older twin’s jibe. they’d always been good for bickering back and forth, the pair of them, but sparrow had always had an innate and unique gift for taking it just far enough to have jo wrinkle his nose in disgust. ❝ you keep it up, it’s gonna be you with the asshole breath. don’t forget who cleans the bathroom in that trailer, and i know which toothbrush is yours. i could make it so you wouldn’t even know it ‘til you’re hangin’ over the same toilet ‘cause you got e. coli. ❞ it’s an idle threat — josiah would never do something so awful. but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to dish it out in words every once in a while. and speaking of, his are accompanied by a grin as he looks back up at his sibling, but it quickly falters at the realization that their expression hasn’t changed at all. there’s something wrong, he can feel it. brows furrow in concern as he looks away from them long enough to straighten the stack of bee boxes he’s sealed up in preparation to bind them with the ratchet straps.
❝ i didn’t pick it, ❞ josiah tells them, matter-of-fact, as he reaches out for the strap and waves them around to kick up the wheels on the back of the handcart holding the apiary so he can shimmy the nylon fabric securely underneath. and that much was true. he hadn’t woken up one morning and decided he was going to start beekeeping. no, mama had taught him, and she’d done so from a very young age. he’d thought it was just another way she found to share her own passions with him, but in hindsight, he’s come to realize it was maybe something more. she was teaching him patience, compassion. two things she likely feared he’d lack without her aid after seeing how much his temper was a reflection of his father’s. ❝ but even if i did, it don’t mean i’m going soft. you know there ain’t a single living thing that wouldn’t feel the catastrophic impact if honeybees just happened to go extinct? ❞
josiah shakes his head, laughs at his sibling’s question as he rises to his feet once more, starts to stretch the straps around the boxes. ❝ and anyhow, you’re not wrong, but it’s more than that. the queen and her brood, come winter time, will end up pushin’ every last male bee outta the hive and letting ‘em either starve or freeze to death. pickin’s are slim for resources, and once queen’s eggs have all been fertilized and there’s no need for the drones anymore, they kill ‘em all off ‘til the next year to ensure all the important players survive. now tell me, what’s soft about that? ❞ once he’s got the ratchet strap secured all the way around the apiary, he nods for sparrow to let the boxes back down so he can start to tighten it. one knee presses into the red clay dirt as hands come to fiddle with the gears on the ratchet, and he looks back up at them as he yanks tight on the loose end of the strap. ❝ now you gonna tell me why it looks like somebody pissed in your cornflakes, or do i actually gotta ask? ❞
by now, daphne’s throat had gone hoarse and the painted alien on her cheek was nearly faded, but she wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. crashcon was, without a doubt, her favorite time of year, surrounded by people that held the same interests as her, ones that wouldn’t judge her for going on tangents that lasted no less than ten minutes. daphne was surrounded by her people, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to see one person in particular. she’d gotten the pleasure of spending a good chunk of the afternoon with josiah and his mom, trying her hand at different carnival games and claming victory over one of them only to promptly give mama moore the little stuffed alien she’d won. it was one of the best days the blonde had ever had, but she felt as though her palms were itching to have more time with them—with josiah specifically—and she just coun’t shake that.
now, as she bid farewell to one of the tourists that she’d befriended, the very tired daphne rubbed gently at her eyes, the sun in the sky losing intensity and beginning to disappear behind the tree line. but just as she was about to call it quits and head home, it was like her skin came alive. daphne felt jo before she saw him, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as she lifted her hazel gaze to find him just a few feet away, her features breaking into a wide grin. without so much a second though, daph let her feet carry her forward, the toes of her shoes kicking up dust as she approached him. “fancy seeing you here, josiah moore,” she teased, stopping just an inch or so in front of him, head tipping back to fully take in his features. “and here i thought you hated crascon.”
☽
if you had told him at any point in his life up until this very moment that josiah moore would willingly attend crashcon not once but twice in the same day, he would’ve told you that you were full of shit and then cut you off on drinks at the pony because clearly you’d had one too many. he had never particularly been a fan of the gaudy, kitschy tourist trap of a science fiction convention that popped up in the streets of his hometown every year. the insane traffic that blocks the main roads of an otherwise sleepy town and makes him consistently late for work, all of the trash that lingers in gutters and around overflowing trashcans for days after the event. the whole thing is an eyesore and personally? josiah would rather do without. but he couldn’t, not this year. not when his mama had all but begged him to go, not when he knew this might be the last chance she got to go. what kind of person would he be to refuse her? so he’d packed her wheelchair into the bed of his truck along with a backpack full of water and medications and umbrella to shield her from the sun and they’d spent the entire afternoon wandering around the booths, running into daphne only a short while into their visit and spending the rest of the evening there with her until mama was nearly dozing in her chair, her alien antennae headband bobbling with the fall of her head, and jo had decided it was time to call it a day so she could go home and get some rest.
and yet, here he was, pulling back into a parking space littered with green confetti and cotton candy wrappers. he’s alone this time, mama safely tucked into her quilts at the trailer, and unlike earlier when he’d been pushing her chair around in arbitrary loops and spirals based on whatever had caught her eye, this time, he walks back into the con with a sense of purpose. in his back pocket burns a pair of tickets, once he’d purchased far earlier in the afternoon when he’d been feeling particularly sentimental after watching daphne share a cardboard boat of fried oreos with his mama and had ducked away under the guise of going to find something for them to drink. he’d returned several minutes later with some sort of fluorescent green electrolyte punch and a secret tucked away with wallet. and now? well, now he’s back to make good on that secret, and he can only hope he’s gotten back to the con in time to do so.
icy blues search a crowd that’s slowly begun to dwindle in his absence, lighting up like the leds on the carnival games the moment they land on a familiar head of blonde. he weaves a path through wandering patrons, finding she’s noticed him quickly enough to meet him in the middle of it all. he can’t help but laugh at the words that greet him, wild curls that have only grown in size under all the heat bouncing with a shake of his head. ❝ ain’t ever said that i still don’t, ❞ he points out, matter-of-fact, as hands come to find her waist and settle there, lips twitching up into a smile. ❝ and if you tell anyone otherwise, know in your little gremlin heart i’ll deny it to the death. but i just — well, i forgot something when i was here earlier and i was kinda looking for you because i was hoping you’d still be here and maybe willing to help me out with it. ❞
there isn’t much room in the space behind the trailer to where josiah was stood working, but juniper keeps her distance, stopping movement once he decides to speak up. she shouldn’t be surprised, but she is – that the first words out his mouth aren’t an apology. even if they were, she’s not sure she’d accept them. the handle of the basket wound around her forearm is lifted closer inward her chest.
there was more than one reason for not stepping foot into the trailer, and yes, not running into jo had been a big one; but that was unfortunately unavoidable now. easily, the brunette could open her mouth and lie. the woman needed to rest. she knew how important getting sleep was. juni had been through it all with her nana, after all. but they both knew that was a bullshit reason for not treading this way for the past couple of weeks. lips smooth together, swallowing down the lump that formed in her throat. fuck, she didn’t want to speak to him. not a single damn word, but what was she to do now? rising from the moment of silence, juniper finally breaks. “does she know?”
☽
for a long, heavy moment, josiah wonders if she’ll say anything to him at all. the silence is pervasive, almost suffocating in the dry new mexico heat. he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, not really. he deserves the silent treatment from her. deserves more than that, if he’s being honest, but the truth is a source of discomfort he’d rather not dig into. not now. ( not ever. but isn’t that just his way? the moore way? ) a hand comes to drag down the length of a solemn face, rough calluses catching on stubble along the way. he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, not outside of wait, anyhow. wait for her to speak up or to decide to turn around and disappear back down the gravel drive for another month, maybe more. it’s not his place to make the first move now and he knows it. he’s done enough acting out of turn to get himself in this position anyhow.
the question isn’t one he anticipates, although he supposes maybe he should’ve. it’s an acknowledgment, at least, and that’s more than he could ask expect, much less ask for. it elicits a nod from josiah, slow and reflective. ❝ yeah, ❞ he says after a moment, ❝ she knows. ❞ and for all that he’s yet to actually apologize, there’s remorse in his tone. regret. he’d gone into her room the morning after it had all happened, bruised and scabbed and hungover to hell and back, and he’d sat down on the floor right next to her bed and told her everything he’d done. of course he did. he’d never forgive himself if she heard it from anyone else, and he could only imagine the image of the scene sparrow would’ve painted for her. and he’d cried. christ, he cried, face buried in her floral sheets as he tried to grapple with the gravity of his mistake. as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he’d been so stupid to lose a sister and a best friend in one fell swoop, that he could very easily have been locked up for fuck only knows how long for assault, that he’d let his rage get the better of him and caused a scene the likes of which would likely villainize him to much of roswell for years to come.
❝ she been buggin’ me to come see you. to apologize. ❞ josiah sniffs, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands and makes a point of looking everywhere except juni. ❝ every damn day. and you know what? i wanted to listen to her. i wanted to come find you, to say sorry. fuck if i didn’t wanna tell you i was sorry from the moment i did it, the exact fuckin’ moment and every single goddamn moment that’s come after — but i’m not stupid. i told her you ain’t gonna want to see me, that it ain’t gonna matter ‘cause you won’t wanna hear it. i know you well enough to know when i’ve done fucked up the kinda way that ain’t worth forgiving. ❞
matilda was at her wit’s end. she’d been sat in the crashdown cafe for a couple of hours now, empty vessels of what had been an assortment of caffeine-fueled drinks left on the table, using pages of scribbles and notes as coasters as the brunette had spread her work out. it was a habit, the urge to try and see everything she’d researched all at once, as if it might make the words come that little bit easier. that wasn’t always the case, however. what made it worse was the fact that her laptop wasn’t exactly cooperating. “you don’t know anything about computers do you? because this is so slow and i need any other advice that isn’t uninstall your games because if i don’t have those i’ll go insane.”
☽
although he’s been finding himself waiting in line for pick-up at crashdown less often over the past month or so than usual, that’s not to say a lifetime of patronage hasn’t made josiah incredibly familiar with the ins and outs of the small, kitschy and painfully alien-themed eatery. ( he hated the decor, the stupid names on the menus for what was otherwise your standard greasy diner fare, but it was the only place in down to get a strawberry milkshake that his mother was willing to stomach, so here he was. ) the frustration from a nearby booth draws his attention and jo furrows his brow, wondering for a moment if the woman’s talking to anyone else or if the words are actually directed at him. finding no one else in the vicinity with a glance over his shoulder, jo shrugs, hardens his mouth into a sort of apologetic line and shakes his head. ❝ i don’t got anything for you, i’m sorry. computers ain’t my forte. what i can tell you, though, is it’s probably not your games. i don’t think the wifi’s been upgraded in this place in something like a decade. ❞
◆◆◆ “oh, you’re very welcome! calling the exterminators on bees is just highly unethical — they do so much great work for us, you know? without them, we’d be screwed…” kekoa says, taking a seat in one of the wicker chairs by the pool. the young man’s joke makes him laugh — “god, thank you for that! i’d say it’s surprising how brutal middle-aged middle-class well-to-do folks can be, but it’s totally not. my guess is that it has something to do with boredom. the malaise of it all…” he senses himself veering into analyst territory, which is perhaps not the most appropriate modality for the current context. he clears his throat and listens to the wind rustle the trees above.
◆◆◆ kekoa is impressed by how attentive the young man is to his craft; it makes him happy to see people involved in a hands-on skill, especially one that is so un-self-centered, so world-oriented. “i do swim often, just not here…it’s much easier to go to satellite since it’s so close to work.” kekoa knows it’s pretty silly to pay for the gym when he has the same equipment at home, but the gym has people in it. kekoa doesn’t get to see a lot of people — not ones he doesn’t work with or isn’t related to, anyway. “but it’s not good for the filters to leave it all messy like that, so…clean it i must,” he smiles. “i’m curious — if you don’t mind my asking, how did you get into beekeeping?”
☽
when the man speaks, josiah can’t help but smile. it’s a rare, genuine sort of expression that does not find the young man’s stoic visage very often, a smile that reaches all the way up to crinkle at the corners of his eyes and tug at the faint dimples hidden in cheeks by a layer of scruff. ❝ ‘i appreciate you thinkin’ that way, ❞ he admits, sincere, as he sets up the smoker and cracks the corner of the chest so he can position the spout inside. ❝ knowin’ all that, you’d be surprised how many many people reach out to me as a last resort, ‘cause it’s out of the exterminator’s hours or some shit. ❞ he tries to keep himself from sounding too bitter as he speaks, but just the other day he’d spoken over the phone to a man who’d hung up on him when he found out he didn’t intend to kill the hive he had complained was growing in his shed out back. the malaise of folks who make more in a month than josiah surely makes in a year is enough to draw his attention back to reality and he casts a glance over his shoulder wtih a chuckle and a shake of his head. ❝ your guess has got to be better than mine. ❞
it isn’t long before josiah can remove the smoker from the chest and he sets it aside in favor of a long, narrow saw that he carefully slides under the lid of the chest. the hive has fused to it and he’s concerned the weight will cause it to break if he tries to lift the lid to reveal it, and ideally, he’d like to maintain as much of the hive’s structure as he can. if his faces screws into something akin to confusion at the thought of paying extra for a house with a pool he’d never even use, he’s grateful he’s got his back to the man so it can go unnoticed. it’s not his place to judge anyone, he reminds himself. instead, he focuses his attention on detaching the hive from the lid so he can gently push it open. ❝ there we go, ❞ he says as he’s got it open, finally able to peer inside, and immediately begins to search the colony for the queen. oh, my mama taught me, ❞ jo explains at the man’s question, a softness to his gaze on the hive and a fondness to his voice as he recalls the memories from his youth. ❝ she was out buildin’ apiaries and bee boxes in our backyard long before i was even born, rescuing them up and bringing ‘em home like hundreds of little stray cats. and ever since i was a kid, she showed the importance of lookin’ after them. ❞
If it was up to Wyatt, he wouldn’t have returned nor would his family still be in Roswell. Unlike most of them, he didn’t believe in the absurdity of the ‘Moore curse’, that they were doomed to have nothing more than what was given to them at birth. That small, piece of trash his mother and siblings still, unfortunately, called home. And he had once too but the memories are shunned to the back of his mind, a place he doesn’t like to visit often. Still, it was too late for him to try and change anything, not even sure if he was able to, but he knew he wanted to be around in case there was something for him to do. And if not, he’d at least try to make up for loss time. The visit of his younger brother is unexpected but welcomed by a rare genuine smile on Wyatt’s lips, surprise still in his eyes at the fact little Josie is now almost taller than him. “You know this ain’t that much of a big deal, right?” He motions towards his somewhat humble place, full aware that it was much more than the place his little brother still lived in. That pained him. “And where else would it be? You know I don’t like to spend any more time than necessary at that… Trailer.” Wyatt tries to hide the disgust in his tone as he makes way for Josiah to step inside. “Come on now. Just be careful ‘round the dog.”
☽
❝ ain’t a big deal? ❞ the words tumble out in a scoff, but there’s no animosity to it. no edge. if anything, it sounds surprised, incredulous. maybe it’s because he’s still clinging to his humble roots — and just barely at that, he’d be forced to admit — but it sure as hell looks like a big deal to him, this neat and tidy single-family home smack dab in the center of suburbia. ❝ well, no, i guess it probably ain’t worth batting an eye at when you’re used to all the flashy lights and glamour of the city of angels, huh? but i’d say this is about as pretty as it gets in roswell. ❞ josiah claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he walks through the doorway, flashes a grin to accompany the teasing. no, he’s never too much in common with wyatt, not really, but that didn’t change how glad he’d been to find out he’d come back to town. back home, even if he was the only one who really saw it that way anymore. and if he looks away as he steps inside, he’ll sooner say it was to admire the interior design than an attempt at trying to hide the involuntary downward twitch of his lips with the way he says the word trailer. he knows wyatt doesn’t mean it any type of way to come at him. it wasn’t meant to feel like a jab. so he takes a breath and exhales in a chuckle, tries to let it go and instead embraces a change of subject. one he’s quite excited about at that. ❝ you have a dog? well where’s it at? ❞
daxton does not believe in destiny quite so much, but his insect-obsessed ass thought that it was the bee gods doing him a favour when they made him run into some dude asking about them outside some other dude’s house. “are you about to go deal with a bee hive in there?” he smiles wide in excitement. “can i come watch? is that allowed? if it’s not allowed then i won’t tell anyone. you’re not gonna be exterminating them though, are you?” he begins, firing off a bunch of questions in about 5 seconds. “if that’s the case then i’m gonna have to protest you somehow… i don’t know, you afraid of geckos by any chance? cause if you wait here i can bring him from my place two blocks down and threaten you with him. i’ve trained him to bite enemies.”
☽
the moment the other male starts talking, josiah can feel his patiece begin dwindling. from the moment his boots find the sidewalk, the guy’s spouting off rapid-fire questions at him with all the jumbled haste of an auctioneer calling out bids, and josiah, though to his credit has been trying, is really only picking up on every second or third word out of the his mouth. ❝ yes, i’m goin’ to deal with a bee hive. no, you can’t come watch ‘cause it ain’t my house to invite you to. and no, ‘course i’m not gonna exterminate ‘em, so you can do us both a favor and leave your lizard two blocks down.❞ he shifts the nuc box in his hand and glances toward the yard in question, and almost as soon as he does, gaze lands on the hive he’s been called about, several yards away and climbing up out of the hollowed, dry-rotted stump of a long-felled tree. tongue sucks against the back of teeth in thought before he looks back over at the male, heaves a sigh. ❝ ah, fuck it. you wanna help?❞
being around jo was like a safe space for daphne, her fears of sticking out like a sore thumb dissipated and her true nature always came to light. but despite how often they seemed to go after each other, there was that slight pull that the blonde just couldn’t seem to ignore. she’d felt it all those years ago when she’d wandered into the pony on a whim, hours spent together hidden away in a corner booth with a sense of nostalgia. they hadn’t been close growing up, but now that they were adults, daphne couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t have josiah, and that’s how she knew she was in almost too deep. “no,” she chuckled, setting the now-dry glass down and reaching for the next one, a small shift of her feet drawing her just the smallest bit closer to him before she re-thought that decision and stepped a fraction of an inch to the side. “no, i’m not trying to go back on my promise. i would never do that to you.” the night she’d gone after jo and comforted him had been almost too eye-opening, her thoughts consumed by her feelings that crept up on her, seemingly hitting her like a ton of bricks. that pull towards josiah was more than just a pull, and now that she was ready to do something about it, she was terrified. “the flying saucer is playing godzilla vs. kong,” she began, eyes training down just long enough for her to give a hard swallow before that hazel gaze was finding his bright blue stare once more. “and i was wondering if you want to go? with…with me. if you wanted to go to the movies, with me.”
☽
❝ good, ‘cause i didn’t wanna have to kick you out from behind the bar just yet. ❞ the words are paired with a cheeky grin as josiah hands over another dripping glass, bright irises lingering just a second longer than usual on her profile before he turns his gaze back to the sink. for all that his words are teasing, hers hold actual weight. it may just be a silly little promise this time, but he trusts that it wouldn’t matter what the promise was. contrary to anything he should believe from anyone growing up in a town where his family name was synonymous with scathing gossip, when she says she’d never to that to him, he believes her. mostly because she’s the only one that ever really seems to believe him. the only one who ever really sees him for anything more than a scowl and an incendiary temper, anyway. he wonders some days ( wednesdays, mostly, it seems ) what his days would be like if daphne hadn’t just decided on one of them to show up at his bar and never stop coming. she doesn’t even drink for christ’s sake, not really, but she still shows up and parks at a bar stool with her laptop and her folders and her little frown and fills his shifts at the pony with arguments and tangents, annoyances and confessions and laughter. and most nights, it’s one of the few things he actually looks forward to, much as he’d never admit it aloud. and oh, he wouldn’t. he can’t imagine what it would do to her ego.
hands that have remained diligent in their task pause as daphne makes her way ‘round to a point, and he drops a shaker to the bottom of the sink so he can turn to better face her, brow furrowed in an anticipatory and inquisitive sort of curiosity. tip of a tongue slips out to glide over a lower lip already lifting in a smile he can’t quite hide. and how could he? he’d be a liar to say he hasn’t thought about this moment at least a handful times over the years and even more frequently as of late. again — not that he’d ever admit it. after taking a few seconds to process what she’s asked, he finally speaks up. ❝ daphne jean wallis, are you askin’ me on a date? ❞ if it takes him another moment to formulate a response, he’ll have to be forgiven; it’s just that he isn’t used to being blindsided by good things, by things he wants. he almost doesn’t want to believe it to be true for fear that he’ll come to find out it isn’t. but she’s here, standing right next to him and looking up at him and waiting for an answer and it feels real and so he can’t help but believe it. believe her. ❝ what time am i pickin’ you up? ❞
reason for name: both names were chosen by his mother — josiah, meaning god has healed, was her father’s name, and barnabas, son of consolation, was his father’s name before him
nickname(s): jo, jos, josie, jojo / sparrow’s nicknames for him are plentiful and do not make the cut
date of birth: may 2, 1995
age: twenty-six
gender + pronouns: cismale + he/him
place of birth: roswell, new mexico
parents: oliver moore + laurel moore ( née abrams )
relationship with family: grew up very close with all of his siblings, particularly sparrow and jade but became distant after their parents’ divorce as his father and his siblings all left roswell / tried to keep in touch with siblings but unsuccessful save for jade and rarely his brothers / extremely close with his mother
pets: several colonies of bees in hive boxes out back behind the trailer
𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝
height: 5′11
build: broad / muscular / athletic
nationality: american
ethnicity: a mix of several, including english + russian + ashkenazi jewish
usual hair style: wild unruly curls held back with a rolled bandana / lil’ bun sometimes
eye color: bright, light blue
complexion: tanned from years outside tending to the bees ( read: farmer’s tan ) / freckled shoulders
disabilities: alcohol use disorder / intermittent explosive disorder
what do they consider their best feature?: he doesn’t think he has one, but if he had to answer, his mama always said it was his eyes
worst they’ve ever been injured?: gouged his right thigh open on some jagged fencing when he was running from the cops one night as a teenager trespassing on walker air force base + needed fourteen stitches / extensive second degree burns from a radiator bursting at the shop a few years back / broke three ribs in a fight one time and could barely move for about a week
𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖
favorite outfit: a pair of well-worn levis / white cotton t-shirt / brown leather work boots / maybe one of his brothers’ old hand-me-down flannels depending on the weather
glasses? contacts?: twenty-twenty vision
personal hygiene: clean + showers daily but still smells like motor oil and cigarettes
jewelry? tattoos? piercings?: woven bracelet his sister made him when they were kids / a crystal tree of life inside of wire pendant shaped like the star of david that his mama made by hand worn on a chain around his neck / several tattoos, the most notable of which are an orchid on his neck + the roman numeral v on the inside of his right ring finger + a laurel branch over his heart + hebrew script on his left hip reading לחיות לא במראה אלא באמונה, or live not by sight but by faith
what does their voice sound like?: kind of gruff, the rough around the ages that comes from years of smoking cigarettes and shouting at rowdy bargoers
style of speech: slow and quiet / takes his time talking / loud when he’s agitated or feeling argumentative
accent?: a bit of one, influenced by a lifetime in new mexico and his mother’s southern roots
unique mannerisms/physical habits: twists his curls absently when he’s tired, a trait he’s had since he was a kid / chain-smoking, pacing and picking at his cuticles when he’s anxious or upset / playing with the pendant his mama gave him when he’s thinking
left handed or right?: right-handed
do they work out/exercise?: working 90+ hours/week is enough, he’s dead on his feet if he’s off the clock
𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕗𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥
known languages: english
zodiac: sun taurus / moon cancer / ascendant sagittarius
gifts/talents: playing the fiddle / winning rigged carnival games / mixing a damn good drink
religious stance: jewish, raised in a jewish/catholic household / observes only major holidays + holy days
political stance: liberal
pet peeves: gossip / fidgeting / lying / unnecessary or dull conversation / tourists / alien talk
optimist or pessimist: realist / pessimist
extrovert or introvert: introvert
𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕔𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤
relationship status: single / interested in one ( 1 ) blonde gremlin
sexual orientation: bisexual / not open about it
ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: argumentative / affectionate / adventurous
ever been in love?: maybe, but he’s not sure he knows what it feels like / tbd / could be rn who knows?
what’s their love language?: acts of service / quality time
most important person in their life?: mama moore, no question
𝕧𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟
level of education: diploma from roswell high school
profession: mechanic + bartender
past occupations: none / got a job at sanders’ before he’d fully graduated high school
dream occupation: fulltime beekeeper
passions: beekeeping + bee rescue / his family / mixology / music / woodworking + construction
attitude towards current job: grateful he has the income of both, even if it is absolutely exhausting
spender or saver? why?: spending, but not by choice — mama’s medical bills on top of the simple cost of living mean there’s not a lot to save after everything’s paid up anyhow, but josiah doesn’t bat an eye handing over damn near his entire paycheck for her
which is more important – money or doing something they love?: right now it’s the money, because the health of the person he loves most is on the line and he’s struggling enough as it is to make ends meet, but sometimes when he’s laying in bed at night he thinks how nice it would be, in a perfect world, to work just forty hours a week doing something he loves
𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤
phobias: the ocean / natural bodies of water
life goals: stay in touch with his family this time around / save as many bees as he can / find love maybe
greatest fears: losing his mother / turning into his father / pushing away everyone he cares about / being alone after mama moore passes and all of his siblings leave again
most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him: probably causing a scene at jj’s birthday and being yelled at that he’s just like his daddy in front of a whole crowd of people / but also somewhere, on somebody’s phone, exists a video of him blackout drunk on tequila and shirtless, dancing to black velvet by alannah myles, on the bar of the wild pony sometime in winter of last year
something they’ve never told anyone: sometimes when mama’s asleep, he goes into her room and sits down on the floor by her bed and just cries until his head aches worse than his heart or he falls asleep
biggest regret: the first time he ever picked up a bottle + realized it was a comfort
compulsions: constantly working / being in a state of motion or busy / drinking
police/criminal/legal record: a colorful list of misdemeanor charges including assault / battery / public intoxication / trespassing / vandalism / resisting arrest / driving while intoxicated
vices: cigarettes / whiskey / long drives / late night conversations with daphne / phone calls to jade
𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤
hobbies: beekeeping / reading / woodworking / violin ( though not so much anymore )
favorite color: aegean blue
favorite smell: gasoline / meyer lemon / the dryer sheets out of the laundromat dispenser
favorite food: anything his mama used to cook / a full diner breakfast literally any time of day
favorite book: silent spring by rachel carson / walden by henry david thoreau
favorite movie: romeo + juliet directed by baz luhrmann
favorite song: nights in white satin by the moody blues
coffee or tea?: coffee, no cream but sweetened with honey
favorite type of weather: clear skies / warm / breezy
most prized possession: the family trailer, under his name when he became his mother’s p.o.a.
they’d spent the morning in their section of the trailer ( although possession was becoming rather muddy ) in avoidance of everybody and everything . there was only one face they wanted to see , only one voice they wanted to hear , and as sparrow laid in a foetal position on the thin mattress they held a worn shirt just beneath nostrils . slow inhalations were made against fabric , and although flecks of blood and cigarette ash stained the rag nobody would ever allow the thing to touch water , for it held that scent of cologne that ached their heart and twisted their stomach in what they could only , reluctantly , describe as love . up until now sparrow had been sure marcos was dead , and maybe that reality was easier to come to terms with knowing that they’d never see each other again , that questions would always and forever remain unanswered and lost to the ether , but now ?? bad blood had been unearthed ; the reunion hadn’t been the crying , adoring fairytale the moore had dreamt of , but instead a screaming match between trailers thanks to a close proximity they had never imagined . tossing the shirt beneath their pillow ( the only place that was a sanctuary within the squash and the squeeze ) sparrow mopped their eyes , smudged dark eyeliner back to their waterline , and slammed the trailer door shut behind them upon exit .
boots circled the dusty terrain surrounding the trailer , and before sparrow was able to make a break for it their ears were hit with the bark of their brother . for once though it wasn’t greeted with a prompt flick of their middle finger . instead , they slowed and turned toward josiah , squinting one eye shut to protect it from the cloud of sand caught in the cross-breeze . “ what you need help with , frog-face ?? “
☽
to his credit, josiah did his best to offer sparrow what privacy he could in the limited space they shared with their mother and the influx of siblings that stopped by sporadically. call it twin intuition or just knowing his family well enough, but he could tell they didn’t want to talk and, wanting to oblige, he’d given them as much space as was available — he’d left a cup of coffee by their beside earlier, before he’d left for sanders’ for the morning, and hadn’t even bothered to go inside and see if it had been touched by early afternoon when he made it home, figuring he’d give them a little more time to themselves. but they’ve shown their face now, a fact for which he’s grateful, even if he’d never outright admit it to them for fear of a slug to the shoulder or a scowl in return. sentimentality wasn’t often the moore way; they loved each other, there wasn’t a doubt about that, but their love wasn’t a soft one, seldom speckled by hugs or heart to hearts over the kitchen table.
their words are enough to elicit a snort and josiah shakes his head, eyes rolling back at his sibling’s quip. ❝ how many times i gotta tell you not to talk shit on my face seein’ as you’re the one kicked it and smashed it into looking like this to begin with? anyway, rather that than your stank ass frog breath. ❞ his retort is accompanied by a cheeky grin as he rises to his feet, waves his sibling over. ❝ been trying to rearrange the place back here to accommodate a whole new colony i just picked up outta some sorta horse shelter down at puhlman ranch — and before you go telling me i don’t got room for any more, i already know. but i couldn’t just leave ‘em or let ‘em fend for themselves without a queen. anyway, can you grab those ratchet straps and get over here? please? i already got this hive sealed up, just wanna make sure it stays that way when i go to move it here in a sec. ❞
she’s clad in a beat up kiss t-shirt and biker shorts with hands pressed to her forehead as she stands outside her small home, sweat daring to drip down her back as the august heat beats down upon her. the hive had been something she tried to ignore, put off and off until it grew too big for her to even try and handle. the only person she knew could handle it was only one call away, luckily for her. her allergy to the bug was something she dare not fuck with and josiah knew that. she leans back, arms crossed as he pulls up with his garb, smirk pressed to her lips as she shakes her head a bit. “here he is, mr. hive himself.” she teases before nodding towards the side of the house. “back left gutter, really nested itself in there.” she explained as she kept her distance, nose twisted with nerve and anxiety. “and like.. get each one.. please..” she begged to her little brother.
☽
❝ now how many times i been over here this year, jade, and you’re only just tellin’ me about the bees in your gutter? should sick sparrow on you to smack you upside the head — if not only because they could’ve stung you but one good rainfall and they could’ve drowned in there, too. ❞ there’s no malice to his jibe as he addresses his sister, only a bit of light-hearted antagonism to be expected between the siblings. he does worry, though, for both parties involved; call him softhearted ( and you may be the first ) but he doesn’t want to see any harm done to the bees or his sister, and putting them together is surely nothing less than mutually assured destruction. ❝ c’mere, can you at least help me with this box so i can grab the ladder out the bed of the truck? ❞ he holds out the empty nuc box in an offer, for some sort of sign she’ll oblige his request before returning to the pickup to pull out the ladder. hoisting it over his shoulder, he starts around the side of the house, gesturing for her to follow him from a safe distance. ❝ now i don’t expect they’ll be any sorta trouble, but you got your pen on you just in case? ❞ he recalls easily when they were children, the importance of making sure it was nearby whenever they were out back behind the trailer and around mama’s ( and what were now his ) many apiaries. the bees were docile, mostly, but just like any other wild creature, they were unpredictable. ❝ don’t go making me try and remember how to use it though. ❞
it was a big favour to ask, stepping foot anywhere near the trailer park after what happened on jaden’s birthday. if it hadn’t been for her own mother asking, and it hadn’t been for laurel moore ( the woman near a second mother to juniper ) she wouldn’t have. stubborn as all hell, juniper could have easily held a grudge ( and she intended to ) and avoided any one of the moores for so long as she resided in roswell.
wielding a basket of herbal remedies and a few home cooked goodies courtesy of sandra green, juni approaches the trailer. maybe as luck would have it they’d all rolled out of town by now, but as the familiar one tapers into view all the curly headed girl can do is sigh. she approaches the cinderblock step up to the trailer. it wouldn’t be best to knock. the woman inside was sick after all – maybe she could leave it with a note attached. eyes scan across the front of the worn down trailer. sighting no place to properly leave anything without the risk of it being stolen, the brunette heads around the back, only to stop dead in her tracks at the familiar frame standing to a couple of stacked hive boxes.
“fuck,” she intends to think instead of speak aloud and immediately as the word is drawn out, hand raises to cover her mouth, foot already turning in the gravel as if to leave.
☽
sweat stings as it drips past lashes and into a squinted gaze and josiah swipes at a glistening forehead with bare forearm as he rises from the ground, brushes away the gravel and dust and splintered wood that cling to his palms against soil-stained denim. the few rare hours of free afternoon have been spent constructing a new hive box, one of several he has planned to home new colonies he’s found in his possession. where he’ll put them is a worry for another day — the humble square footage they can call a yard out behind the trailer is already crowded, but the hive boxes always have the potential to climb vertically, he supposes. heaving a sigh to try and catch his breath and deciding to take a few moments’ rest to cool off ( as best as he can anyhow, this heat is dry and oppressive ) before rehoming a recently rescued queen and her brood to their new hive, he turns as if to head inside. head shoots up, though, at the sound of a familiar voice, one he’s not heard in weeks at least. it’s a wonder, in a town as small as roswell, they’ve been able to avoid each other for so long. or, well, that she’s been able to avoid him. he’s not been trying. seeing her turn as if to leave herself, he speaks up before she’s made it a step off the gravel.
❝ you don’t gotta, you know — avoid her just ‘cause you ain’t looking to see me. you got just as much right to come and go outta this place as any one of us, and i’m sure she’d be a damn sight happier seeing your mug walkin’ through that door than mine. ❞ much as it hurts to say, it’s true. his mama’s been asking after juniper for a while now, having noticed all too soon when she’d stopped coming around, and it wasn’t hard for her to piece together what had happened from what she’d heard, what she’d seen of him in the aftermath. and josie was never one to lie to his mama, couldn’t lie to her, so he’d had no choice but to tell the truth when she’d asked so often a change of subject was immpossible. if you were to ask him, she hasn’t looked at him quite right since. ( christ knows he can’t blame her for it either. ) he doesn’t look at juniper when he speaks, instead keeps his gaze locked on the ground. he doesn’t wanna see the way she’s looking at him. ❝ i know i ain’t in a position to be askin’ shit of anyone right now, ‘specially you, but it ain’t her fault what i did. ❞
she was behind the bar—which she’d specifically been told not to do hundreds of time—but daphne was clearly planted firmly in place. in her hands was a whiskey glass and a dry towel, her task to dry everything that was washed the only thing making it possible to be where she was when she was. she’d picked up the habit of staying at the pony until closing a few years prior, too invested in whatever she and josiah moore had been discussing at the time, and his lack of complaints about her staying so late were taken as encouragement. but it’d been weeks since jaden’s party, when daphne had walked jo home and slept in his computer chair all night to make sure he continued breathing throughout the night, and she’d had a million and one thoughts roam through her head at the time. but the youngest wallis knew that, if she didn’t go for it now, she’d never ask him the one question that had been on the tip of her tongue for too long. “hey, jo?” she began, head turning so she could locate the curly-headed boy, the breath nearly knocked out of her at the sight of him. get it together, daphne, she reminded herself, a hard swallow the only thing helping her recover from the blush on her cheeks. “i have a question for you, and i’m hoping it doesn’t make you crab at me, but i’m also willing to take the risk.”
☽
it’s not often he caves and lets her hang out behind the bar of the pony, in part because he shudders to think the havoc she could wreak in such a cramped space if she felt inclined, but also because he knows his occasionally granted permission will lead to her presence as a permanent fixture behind the bar even though she’s not on the payroll. most nights, he chases her out — quite literally, actually, hauling ass down the the length of the bar to run her out from behind it or hoisting her up over his shoulder to carry her out just the same. but every now and then, even he can’t deny he could use a hand, so he grants her access on but one condition — he can put her ass to work. with tommy manning the drinks at the front of house, jo’s back at the sink, sleeves rolled up and pushed past elbows as hands scrub glass after glass in one basin before dunking them into the cloudy sanitizer in the next. head lifts from his task at the mention of his name and gaze finds hers, narrowed in a suspicious sort of curiosity. ❝ now you promised if i let you back here that you were gonna help me clear all this shit out the sink, and we still got at least another dozen or two glasses over here waitin’ to be scrubbed. you better not be askin’ me for a break. ❞ the words are playful, teasing in a way that’s become rare for the youngest moore, and lips twitch up in a smile as he pulls a hand from the water just long enough to flick a few droplets in her direction. ❝ what is it? ❞
