@a-dynamite-digger
Wes visits his boyfriend at least once a week, except if he's being more realistic he supposes it's once every three days, or once a day, orrrr...
Well! He visits a lot!!!
Lately, though, Westcott hadn't been around to hear him call. Which maybe wasn't his fault, really, because Wes was so quiet when he chose to speak at all (which was never, except in the archaeologist's presence), and the caves were filled with the sound of dripping water and the echoes of whatever else lived down there. As far as Wes was concerned, anyway, the caves were a nightmare and a half to survive in, and he supposed Westcott had just been busy. Still, it was in the mime's nature to worry, and this time when he knelt by the sinkhole he came with food and warm clothes and anything else he could possibly think would be necessary, although Wes didn't have the best priorities, and that probably meant whatever flowers had survived winter's frost and had begun blossoming forth again as spring approached. He tucks his legs beneath him when he sits, and leans forward on the heels of his palms, poking his nose over the edge of the cavern's entrance and squinting down into the darkness.
His timidity had always lent itself to a hesitation when it came to descending the rope alone, but he was starting to wonder if he should just go down and find Westcott's camp himself. It'd been so long!!! Even so, he wanted to try calling first, anyhow, because maybe he was a little scared of what he'd find. He briefly lifts his head to make sure no one's around to hear, and then softly whispers his sweetheart's name into the shadows below in that lilting, demure voice that hardly ever reached above an octave. Probably not the most useful for getting anyone's attention at all.