a hot house flower to your outdoorsmen

Things are shifting, more than just the ground beneath his feet. Wake relaxes into it, allows things around him to be... well, to be what they will be. Spending most of his time herding some of the youngest brood around (they're really the ones herding him, but don't remind him), tending to his poppies, and getting high out of his gourd. Really, it's not a bad existence.

With most of his daily bullshit handled, Wake wanders down the banks of the estuary. Taking some space so he can smoke-- but then, had he stopped smoking yet today? Always a lit spliff or pipe hanging from his lips, a slightly glazed look in his eye.

Dialing in on the girl from a distance, Wake closes in at a casual pace. "Looking a little green around the gills, sailor." A smirk playing over his lips, though he's not unkind about it. Everything about him is relaxed, settling on the bank beside the pale girl.

"Wake"