Lion Head Mesa Let me hear [MD]

gucci's mouthline curved. he was ready to smile, be polite, maybe give a surprised little "oh", as to properly fake recognition...

...when images struck his brain in a non-sequential order, like a rapid-fire slideshow of shame.

the noble's eyes grew wide.

"oh."

awkwardness was immediate. shuffling in place and crossing his paws, the way one so appendaged might wring their hands, gucci avoided looking straight at the taller man's face - lest he spot some open (bad!) or poorly concealed (worse!) mocking amidst the highway of scars.

"sah, uhm... wha' brings ya back 'ere?" he attempted a laugh. it sounded like a dying man's last wheeze.