eeenright:
âSo,â he starts, âwhat do you think?â Emmet steps back, eyes and fingers focused on securing the second to last button on his denim shirt. Itâs thin and light, sleeves bunched up to hang just below his elbow, and the bottom hangs loose over a black belt and jeans. He canât tell if he looks like a dad or a professional young adult or an unfortunate mix of both. Emmet frowns. âWhat the fuck is business casual?â
River lounged in the couch, taking slow little sips of his tall cappucino. âI donât know. I think it means you can wear whatever the fuck you like as long as itâs not hobo-ish or whatever.â The younger man replied, shrugging his shoulders. He was only basing his perspective off his dadâs old advice. âYou look sharp. So thatâs a good sign?â
















