Dahozhoni Meadow Don't really care what they would say, I'm asking you to stay

a show of teeth, but there's no panache behind it. it's like a punch to empty air.

soto lowers his head with a huff. the air tells him two things, and he's never known it to lie.

milk and testosterone. a curious mix. he nudges the air between them with his black nose. que vas a?