[ Home is a place with skeletons walking around under instruction. Okay. Okay. It's a story that should be called out for bullshit, and Robby never quite knows if to accept things just because. Rather, he goes for allowing it: some person is telling him a fantastical story, and if it's true or not doesn't matter until it does.
How to react to it, however, doesn't come so easily. Robby's quiet as he processes it, a few heavy breaths through it. So, so beyond him; and the world they're in isn't any better in its dangers, or its extremes. ]
I'll pass a visit to your place, [ is what he lands on; dry humour, at least. He fiddles with his free hand, tapping a finger against the side of his jacket and trouser leg, a fist made, unmade. ] Must be a hit at Halloween.
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How to react to it, however, doesn't come so easily. Robby's quiet as he processes it, a few heavy breaths through it. So, so beyond him; and the world they're in isn't any better in its dangers, or its extremes. ]
I'll pass a visit to your place, [ is what he lands on; dry humour, at least. He fiddles with his free hand, tapping a finger against the side of his jacket and trouser leg, a fist made, unmade. ] Must be a hit at Halloween.