Lion Head Mesa silver

her offer was compassionate, and her poor choice of words surprisingly humorous - in a dark sort of way. he managed a sensible nasal exhale.

gucci sat and laid his back against the cool redstone wall. for a while, he did not speak (albeit he still shook). the silence in the company of one he trusted was more claiming than any spoken reassurances could be, he found. he could almost forget the cause of his frayed nerves.

from somewhere far above, came a howl. it moved trough the mesa like a wraith on an agenda, filling every crevice. the neb shivered, more strongly again.

"the pharaoh's heartbroken." the teacup man stated. it was as dispassionate an observation as any. "you was gon' see 'im?" he chined towards her laid-aside medicine. "he still got you runnin' errands?" that ain't right.