@KasitonPerhe Carl sits beside him, smiling to himself. Last time he'd gifted Mitch supplies to feed the flame of his hobby, Mitch had subsequently lit his dresser on fire. Carl had singe marks on his favorite shirt to prove it.
"Of course, how silly of me."
@KasitonPerhe Smiling from ear to ear, Carl tilts his head a bit, and returns the words.
"So what do you plan on building?" He inquires, peering into the box of goodies. "Nothing too ... destructive, I hope."
@KasitonPerhe "Oh— don't worry about it. You give me stuff all the time." He presses his cheek against Mitch's face for a moment, the scruff of his jaw rough. Carl had never been fond of PDA, so these small acts of were Carl's love language in action.
@KasitonPerhe "I only knew because of Judy," Carl admits, his good eye crinkling with the smile the thought of his baby sister brings. "She's obsessed with Christmas. I don't think she'll ever let anyone forget." He hugs Mitch back, gripping him tightly for a moment before letting go.
[...]
@KasitonPerhe Inside sat various knick-knacks, undoubtably things Carl had seen on his run and thought, "Oh. Mitch would like that." From strange lock mechanisms to a ziplock bag of collected watch batteries, the box is brimming with elements for Mitch's creative (and likely explosive) use.
@KasitonPerhe It's a box, wrapped (awfully, mind you) with what appears to be salvaged newspapers. The make-shift wrapping is balled up on the sides rather than folded, and sealed with duct tape. It's definitely Carl's handiwork.
"Open it and find out," he says, bouncing in place slightly.
@HesBrutaI The gun being put out of sight does little to calm the younger man's nerves, but he forces himself to soften the tension in his shoulders.
"Sorry," he says, the rattle in his tone still evident. "I just couldn't sleep. I didn't know you were out here too."
A breathy noise escapes Carl as he tenses, unsure of what to do in the face of this kind of danger.
”Dad?“ he manages in a small voice, the tremble, that hadn't been there for many years, audible once more.
(cont.) dirt and infection. Just behind his good eyes— or rather, his good eye, and where his eye would have been—, the headache came in waves and throbbing distress. And so, Carl breathed deeply through his nose, elbows resting as support upon the kitchen table.
[Open roleplay to anyone]
The unsavory taste of an empty stomach hung on the back in the back of his throat, pairing obnoxiously with the ruthmic pounding that always seemed to find him after having the wound on the right side of his face flushed and cleaned to prevent (cont.)
His laugh was breathy, hand reaching up to touch the matted hair.
"Is it that bad?" It was. Caked with leaves, there was a twig in that mess, poking out from the rat's nest.
"Can you help me out, then?"
Happily, he kissed the boy right back, sighing softly with the tiniest smile on his face as they parted lips just so he could really look at Carl’s face, ❛Yeah . . it’s a relief seeing you . . this hair though, someone needs a haircut❜
The taller boy teased softly.