Date: 2012-02-23 12:47 am (UTC)
freedrinkplease: (we're not babbins anymore.)
Pig was used to swearing, that didn't bother him. Nor the swearing at him, which is what he thought it was. It didn't hurt, there wasn't a pang. Pig answered it with a dull, blank look on his face as he gazed out the window.

It wasn't until he felt the blanket over his body that he broke his expression, looking down with confusion. Slowly, rather boney hands moved to take it by the front and pull it closer to himself.

Why?

He'd been cold, he answered himself. Tillman was just being nice.

...But why was a hard question to answer in his head, and he looked over the leather jacket again. Maybe the colour of love was brown. Warm and earthy and safe, like the jacket, and like Tillman's hair.

It's the honk that spooks him out of it--literally makes him jump and hold on to the jacket a little tighter before his normally childish expression turned into one of rage and annoyance.

"HEY!"

He'd craned his body around, even if the other car couldn't hear it, they could sure see him yelling.

"Fuck YOU! Gettin' into Tilly and Runt like. FUCK YOU."
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Darren "Pig" Cotter

March 2012

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