[ He doesn't make it over to Eddie's immediately, but there's barely a couple hours between the kid's last message and Dean out in the front yard of his house. Knocking on the door had been a distracted kind of banging, eyes running a practised scan of his periphery. Feels all the more necessary these days because turns out he's got more than one reason to stay the hell alive.
Weird how things work out sometimes.
He's got a brown leather-wrapped, seen better days journal tucked under one arm, his other hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans because it's cold. Colder than he'd like, if he's honest.
So he's waiting out front for a kid he's hellbent on helping out. It's important, and it means something. ]
text > action
Weird how things work out sometimes.
He's got a brown leather-wrapped, seen better days journal tucked under one arm, his other hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans because it's cold. Colder than he'd like, if he's honest.
So he's waiting out front for a kid he's hellbent on helping out. It's important, and it means something. ]