#milo 001.

[birdiesugano]

for @mil0slemonade at tantrum, thursday morning

"Oh, thank fuck!"

Birdie had walked in with their eyes half-closed and shoulders tense, bracing themself for the chaos they were sure they would find in the store after a month-long absence. On the record, they would say that they always had complete and total confidence that Milo would hold the fort while they were gone.

Off the record? They'd plead the fifth.

But the place hadn't burned down in their absence, the racks were in order, the floors not collecting dust.

"Milo, I could kiss you," they said, rounding the counter and placing two cups of coffee down before they made good on that hypothetical and got up onto the one-step stool they kept there to place a loud mwah against Milo's cheek.

[borawinters]

closed for: @milo-wray

where: oasis exes beach bonfire

"I hope you're here to burn something of that ex-wife of yours."

Bernie and her antics had been at the forefront of Bo's mind as of late as his club's Google review rating had dipped half a star from her incessant fake reviews.

"Preferably her phone."

[elliotwray]

closed: @milo-wray

location: their childhood home

"Hey! Hey! Those boxes are filled with expensive fucking china, so let's not just be throwing them around like that, yeah?"

Elliot got a grumble of disgruntled assent back from the mover, but it was good enough for her to nod and turn back to some of the others shuttling more boxes out of the house. She stopped someone, peeked inside, then directed them to the corresponding truck, and on it went.

They were headed off to a couple of fancy consignment shops in LA, thousands of dollars worth of dish ware and clothes and jewelry left specifically to her in her parents' will. Her mom probably meant for Elliot to keep some of it, but — oh, well.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure moving toward her from the direction of the guest house with far too much intent to be a mover. She cursed under her breath — she thought he was out of town this weekend — but didn't look up as he got closer.

"I don't want to hear a fucking word," she said to Milo, still not looking at him, instead keeping her gaze trained on her yellow legal pad checklist. "You can go through it if you want — and I don't think you do, because it's a lot — but they left all of this shit to me. All above board. Run along now."

[anyaexe]

with: @milonavarroo​ where: chalet b when: at some indeterminate point during the trip

“do you ever get sick of it?” they ask, shifting slightly in their seat as their gaze fell on the slopes visible through the glass window. “the sports thing, i mean?” she adds, realising that the initial question had not clarified anything in the slightest. “or is it like, your dream?” perhaps prompted by the current backdrop, the thought of people doing physical exercise for the enjoyment of it was so beyond bewildering to her.