Re: quicklog: mary/dylan
[He took the bottle from her and he swallowed hard, a big glug that burned on the way down. Maybe it was dumb as shit to drink when the memories could shake 'em up like nightmares when you were little, but the meds were burnt through and besides - Dylan liked his neighbors where he could see 'em. Not when he saw their insides, their hurt, their pain.]
We grew up same place. Same class at school. [And they were both easygoing as little kids, goldfish crackers and math class and the woods as a place to chill. He looked at her as they trudged down the tiny path and the watch tower bloomed out of darkness into a substantial structure in front of them.] Pat's a good guy.