[ darker colors wore better in the winter months, and falco’s own dress code wasn’t so different: a deep grey fleece that cloaked him down to his shins and hid the fine tipped knives at his hips, slacks with black boots tied high while a knitted, wooly sweater of blue and peach hugged his torso. his sandy hair is easy to spot out of his hood, accompanied with a broadening smile by the second as he bounded toward the elder boy. ]

Mister Paul! [ once he’s caught the young man’s midsection for about three seconds before letting go, he adjusts the straps at his shoulders, one of a full messenger bag while the other was the wooden body of a rifle. ] I’m better, [ he starts, with honesty, having felt jittery come the start of the month due to a frightening blood transition, but between the parties at the snake’s den, food and lessons with pauline (that doesn’t change anything), ] I was just picking up food for the evening. You’re on time—!

[ not that he was expecting him to be prompt, but that he’s got impeccable timing to eat with him in the first place! and as paul can see, falco is excited about it. ]

What about you? Have you found a place yet?