Re: Shiloh F + Jack P: The Capital
Shiloh rolled his eyes. "Really? Am I from the fifties? Have you never heard the phrase odd duck, because I'm pretty sure ever Gen-Z knows it." He didn't comment on the condescension about modern technology. This man beside him was not quickly rising in Shiloh's estimation. It was odd, but the boy had his own code of honor and morals, and poking fun wasn't among things he considered okay, not unless the person deserved it, and then there came a slippery slope of what was right and what wasn't. But he thought the comment about the fifties to be very stupid, and it showed on his angular, thin face. "You are a hypocrite, so why not say it? Why think it and not put it out there? And if I wanted to straight up tell you to fuck yourself, I would," he said honestly.
"Alright, correction, if he sends someone? I'm gone," Shiloh said, again, truthfully. He'd not come here looking for this kind of trouble. A needle, a snort, a sweaty body, all of those things were welcome, but potential injury was not. Neither was coming into sharp focus. Shiloh avoided sharp focus at each and every corner. "You can walk with me as far as the bus stop," he offered, unwilling to be the cause of some jackass' death this Christmas month, but he wasn't happy about it. "So long as he stays back. Whatever you're carrying on you or with you, it's not my concern."
After all, concern had led him here, to his current predicament. Trying to call out a horrible man in a position of power had left him nearly dead, and he was still very much a dead-man walking, so he was inclined to be less savior this holiday season.