Re: [TWD: Beau & Ford]
[Well, that was certainly an explanation. Beau's own handshake was warm, not too tight, a shake of someone who was used to and comfortable with introducing himself to people. Once they parted, he leaned back against the bunk as he watched Ford put the axe in the corner, a hum of interest before he caught the look at his clothes, a brow arching for a moment as he tried to puzzle out what was going on. His clothes were old, beaten in brown boots and a pair of jeans that had seen better days. The white t-shirt he wore under the long sleeve flannel was dirty around the collar, a testament to the struggles at the house and the journey to the prison. There wasn't much about his clothes that spoke of where he was from, only that he wasn't afraid to get dirty and dressed for comfort rather than fashion.]
I might have a pen and paper around here somewhere. You write? Or you quiet that way, too? [The silence was intriguing, the nods of his head, the firm hold on keeping quiet that few people could hold for more than a moment or two. Beau certainly couldn't.]