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Summary
"...i think I'm jus' a lost cause." boothill shifts his head, and feel the newly styled braid in his hair flip over onto his neck. "or maybe just a lil' bit tired. penacony sure is a big place that tires ya' out, huh?"
"don't avoid my question, boothill."
"...i want your touch."
argenti laughs. it's a light laugh, that lingers through the air for some time. it leaves a happy touch already on him. "your wish is my command, sweetheart."
or, boothill misses argenti, even when he's right beside him.