THE DAY HAS ALREADY GROWN FRIGHTFULLY late; a surprise, perhaps, brought upon by his own HUBRIS. yet, unsurprising, perhaps, for being unused to this city and it's ROUTINE, barret is left to his own devices, wandering o'er streets to tend to his own questions. to seek his own answers. and as a sherbet orange and bright pink paints across the skies and he's all hurrying home in a sudden RUSH -- what lurks the streets at night? he TRULY does not know! if he were to venturesome a guess, it would be that if he did not hurry soon, it would fall into night. barret admits to himself that such worry is likely UNFOUNDED, yet â- habits; something difficult to BREAK, aren't they?
a glance over his shoulder, VIGILANT watch as he waits for the tram's arrival, and yet, posture stiffens a mere second later. positively small, the only thing he could THINK about the short statued individual. practically a CHILD, yes? âare you lost?â words questioned in a voice far SOFTER than what appearances would suggest. âit'll be dark soon. you don't want your parents to WORRY, do you?â
