with a frown, he crossed the very line he’d established himself, moving towards the other as he looked at all the stuff in his arms. everything he’d said before. soaps, some stolen fruit. fun stuff.
“—here. Take this stuff. and yeah, I’ve got peppermint.”
he was quick to dive down again, this time grabbing a pot. he had his tea and firestarters on the surface, hidden under a hole. after reaching the surface again, he stripped down behind a tree, and put on dry clothes.
”Alright. Uh, do you want sugar?”
now that he had the stuff in his arms, gus could determine that rusty did have weird taste. should be a fun roommate.
“Fuck sugar.”
he liked to think of himself as a classy gentleman, with refined tastes. imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes. the faint smell of weed and men's cologne.
put succinctly, he is hipster trash.
