text; 1
[The username reads as 'Bismarck.' The picture is of a nondescript piece of purple-painted metal. Is there a pattern here with the previous post? Huh, he didn't notice.]
Tell me a little about your world?
[The request is simple, and harmless enough. No one is obligated to answer, no one is obligated to answer with details if they do.
[It's just a little bit of recon, that's all.]
Tell me a little about your world?
[The request is simple, and harmless enough. No one is obligated to answer, no one is obligated to answer with details if they do.
[It's just a little bit of recon, that's all.]
no subject
The beard kind of tickles his neck. ]
no subject
Man, I... [He chokes on it, trying to get the words out. That's not something North gets happening to him often.]
... I missed you. [All of you, he means, but York a little differently. He wasn't closer to anybody.]
no subject
He can feel himself unwinding a little, his shoulders loosening up at the reassurance that this is real, not some vivid dream. ]
Same here. [ And maybe the hug's getting a little long and a little weird but he doesn't give a shit. He pulls back just enough to run his fingers through overlong blond hair, getting a good look at his friend's now-bearded face.
This thing's scratchy as hell, you know.