— may 8th, 2044 — in zeppelin’s room — @zppelin
the air before the two of you is hazy, smudged with smoke from lazy smiles, columns of throats bared as you puff a soft ringlet into the ceiling of zeppelin’s room. look at how the lines of necks to shoulders is an invitation, curve of an artist’s wrists to line a boy undeserving of existing.
“surprised you could grow shit this good in your own fucking backyard. fucking almost looks easy.” said with a drawl, the boy having already spent the better part of an hour visiting the other man and perusing his goods after a trade of meager patrol loot.
at this rate, he might not make it back to his room. he vaguely recalls having a night shift tomorrow; figures he can crash at zepp’s if he can’t stumble back to his in one piece. ah, well. he takes another drag. it’s too late to regret anything anyways. might as well enjoy it.
“how’d you come to figuring out this shit?” vague gestures at the smoke around them, the joint hanging off his lips. “couldn’t have been an overnight stroke of genius. least, not from you, i’m assuming.”