[Prior doesn't see the shrug - he's tired and his eyes are reluctant to drag themselves open again. But he smiles. Byerly. There's hope for - and in - you yet.]
When I die, the only genes I'll be passing on will be a pair of Gloria Vanderbilts. Indigo blue denim with pink stitching: tight as a latex glove. I like to think some twink with a tiny ass will pick them up in a thrift store and regain his joie de vivre. Anyway.
[He turns his head just enough that his words are muffled by a verdant shoulder.]
Until then: Barrayar. I like these little glimpses, you bring the place to life. So I'll hold onto that for you.
no subject
[Prior doesn't see the shrug - he's tired and his eyes are reluctant to drag themselves open again. But he smiles. Byerly. There's hope for - and in - you yet.]
When I die, the only genes I'll be passing on will be a pair of Gloria Vanderbilts. Indigo blue denim with pink stitching: tight as a latex glove. I like to think some twink with a tiny ass will pick them up in a thrift store and regain his joie de vivre. Anyway.
[He turns his head just enough that his words are muffled by a verdant shoulder.]
Until then: Barrayar. I like these little glimpses, you bring the place to life. So I'll hold onto that for you.