Paxon? I'm sorry it's been a while. [No, seriously. I do miss rping with you.]
The scarred bandit turns, his brow cocking a little bit.“Oh….hey, Grant.”
Overcome with a sudden shyness, he adverts his eyes towards the ground whilst wringing his fingers. “How have you been?”
"Eh, better I guess. Life’s shit wall to wall, so can’t really be great."
He smirked to himself, looking down at a cheap-o magazine he grabbed from a gas station in the Three Horns area. The bandit’s face dropped back, a few new scars here and there, and a few more, newer tattoos on his forearms.
"That’s good. I’m glad to hear that." Wrapping his arms around himself, he looks over the other, smiling at the changes. "Though, you seem more… confident, I suppose?"
He sighs, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I guess. I just kinda grew up is all. Y’know, never really had a full opportunity to look at myself and grow a pair."
"I understand what you mean." He nods, rocking on his feet. "Even if I don’t exactly know the feeling." He purses his lips and looks to his left, trying to get it. "I guess I never really experienced it. Kinda funny when you take account of my age."
Paxon looked up from his trashy magazine, his lips tight and his brow furrowed. “Whatcha mean?”
"I don't really know how to explain. But, I suppose I haven't been around enough people to, oh, what's the word... Age?" His face scrunched up, questioning if he correctly chose the right word. The frustrated man kicks a foot back and forth as he thinks.
