“…I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve ever met before.” Though his features struck a familiar note within her, she couldn’t place where she knew them from. It couldn’t possibly be a memory—he would have never recognized her.
“—Do you live in town?”
“Nevada. Grew up in a bar in an ol’ ghost town.” Well, for the most part, but detailing the bits where his father took him along on “business” wasn’t really a fun story. Not when it usually ended in him having to carry the damn demon back to the bar.
“But you can’t tell me you never get bored. Without winter, summer would hardly be anything at all—the cycle of seasons seems to be woefully unappreciated.”
“It’s not like I can’t travel to where ever I want at any time though. Besides, I don’t care for extremes of any temperature.
ofviolentdeath 