MISTER WI’ THA COCKATIEL HAIR! YOU, YES YOU!
[ an accusatory point, directly towards said person. the spiked blonde hair stands out like a sore thumb, and who better to bother in his dire moment of need than a stranger? exactly -- he has nothing else to lose. hence as to why the brunet runs up to the other’s side, grabbing at his coat without hesitation. there’s an apologetic grin, but nothing more. ]
i’m how ya say ... je suis lost.
[ please stop him. ]
@complexedstigma.









