hey, romeo

dude… you have no secrets.

gross, why is your foot doing that? [ he raises a brow. ] dude, what?

i do, i — i fuckin' do man, i'm fucking busy, fucking hard as fuck toward business work. what the fuck are you doing? chewing your foot off?

busy doing fuckin' what? what do you do that is so busy?

[ shoves back. pinches his jaw. ] whatcha doin', bro?

gotcha.

flicks @onfascination

( who spit in your cheerios? possibly even pissed in them. you're foul, i can already see you'll fight with anything. ) you were extremely content with letting the world know of your current state.

( you like to yap – spew things from here to there, like it's a possessive notion to declare your every thought to the world. i'm sure you're fantastic at parties. ) joe stops, and he turns to the other. he's jogging — nothing uncommon for him. "—runs are healthy, perhaps the —

is that the real reason?

it's a different consistency, roman.

what kind of oil? olive oil? canola? vegetable?

would i give you that satisfactory?

is that the look you were initially going for?

📲: ( R, R. ): i don't like that, it wouldn't work the angles of my other agendas for you. 📲: ( R, R. ): you wanna try?

📲: ( R, R. ): i like your shoulders. which one would you sacrifice? 📲: ( R, R. ): you brought it up, i must consider everything you say to me at least once.

📲: ( R, R. ): surgery will take too long to conduct this fun project. 📲: ( R, R. ): you can curl up.

📲: ( R, R. ): i think you would fit.