11-28-2017, 08:32 PM
Ned doesn't say anything. Not when she pauses to give him a moment too, or when she finishes entirely. The kitchen air chugs with weed fill and Ned watches the smoke drift up to the ceiling with a look that says he may be constipated or may be disturbed or simply thinking. He leans forward onto the counter, sizable sleeves bunching up and over his wrists and hands until they are hidden from sight.
He takes up the pipe and the lighter, huffing a breath in and out for himself before setting the tools to use. A deep intake later and he is wafting his own toke up to the ceiling through pursed lips and blowing the rest out through his nostrils. He takes a second to scrub at his eyeballs and murmurs under his breath, the first response:
"Fuck."
It's all he says for the next dozen or so seconds, trying to gauge the moment. He lets his eyes and brain drift over the interior of the kitchen, eyeballing the walls with a careful level of scrutiny.
"Watching paint dry isn't nearly as bad as people make it out to be. It doesn't deserve the metaphorical rep. it's been labelled with."
He coughs. A gentle thing to clear his insides out.
"Preachers looking to help you find the way are an old cliche. Sounds a bit bunk." He takes another small puff before sliding the pipe back her direction, the cherry still smoldering. "You gonna google him? Get a pic to compare maybe before you go out? Or some witch level equivalent at least?"
He takes up the pipe and the lighter, huffing a breath in and out for himself before setting the tools to use. A deep intake later and he is wafting his own toke up to the ceiling through pursed lips and blowing the rest out through his nostrils. He takes a second to scrub at his eyeballs and murmurs under his breath, the first response:
"Fuck."
It's all he says for the next dozen or so seconds, trying to gauge the moment. He lets his eyes and brain drift over the interior of the kitchen, eyeballing the walls with a careful level of scrutiny.
"Watching paint dry isn't nearly as bad as people make it out to be. It doesn't deserve the metaphorical rep. it's been labelled with."
He coughs. A gentle thing to clear his insides out.
"Preachers looking to help you find the way are an old cliche. Sounds a bit bunk." He takes another small puff before sliding the pipe back her direction, the cherry still smoldering. "You gonna google him? Get a pic to compare maybe before you go out? Or some witch level equivalent at least?"