Hushed Willows A couple bodies in the garden where the grass grows

As a matter of fact, I do.
By no means was he a professional, not yet; but growing up alone spelled a lot of scuffles over stupid things. Growing up in a way not unlike she had, from what he'd gathered.
Perhaps he ought to pursue the art further if his family is about to get bigger.
He shuffles until he comes up beside her, dwarfing her even with his own midday shadow. He keeps his distance; head lowered, body languid in its movements. She is still nervous around him and he can't blame her. You wanna learn?