“Say, you ever get to use one of these on an actual person?” Of course - Wes is referring to the rifle. He rubs most of the water out of his hair, leaving it damp and slapped against his skull; before he pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and juts his chin towards the weapon. Whether Darby is insane or whether some universes allow for gods to live in the form of men is not something he tends to contemplate too often. All he knows is that sometimes he comes across a cabin in the woods, and sometimes it is occupied by Darby, and sometimes Darby lets him use his shower to get all the dirt from the tear out of his hair and from under his nails. Sometimes Darby knows him; sometimes he doesn’t. It’s as fickle as any other variable in the confusing equation which is Wes’ life.
@hockandhand / sc.
