Coconut Grove the day is done, but i'm having fun

if rannveig caught the swiftly trailing emotion that fled (or fell) from govinda's features, he had the good sense to ignore it - it wasn't like him to thumb an open wound, and as much as he wanted to know all about everyone's personal beeswax, he just wasn't the type to pry beyond a light ribbing.

all the same the mention of having a few malias brought a glint of admiration to rannveig's eyes. so govinda was a stud, wasn't he? a ladies man that shackled with all the malias he pleased -- rannveig felt a surge of bro-like jealousy - the kind that wasn't malicious, but had a thin undercurrent of competitive edge to it. the kind where you were proud, but a bit insecure, to stand witness to such incredible accomplishments.

govinda was beginning to spare rannveig the pain of prying further, and then, a thunderbolt seemed to strike through him, for he changed topic suddenly. the boy narrowed his gaze, disappointed the story had ended -- but knowing like all good stories, it had likely ended in heartbreakin conclusion.

then there was who? he wanted to pipe up with a stupid smile, but he knew better. some malias were better left buried by the past.

"being lonely is a sad kind of life." rannveig chirped, more-so for himself than govinda. he didn't care for the idea of never having another malia. nah, that wasn't his jam. "you don't gotta talk about it if you don't want." he inspected the rough edges of his paws noncommitally, hoping that govinda would anyway even though he sworn he wasn't the type to pry.