Re: Roof: Damian/Misha
Damian tutted, annoyed, from his perch. And he climbed down. He gripped the edge of the overhang, flipped himself back, so he was facing the house and window both, and he settled toes on sill. He came into a crouch, then sat, his legs inside the room, and Misha looking at him somberly from the bed. "Now you are fussed," he announced. The remnant of his cigarette was lost in his movement, but he did not light one anew just yet. Instead, he pulled his hood up and cinched it with the strings, until he was but an oval of face looking out. "I do not wish to talk about Barbara. I was only talking about my type."