another casualty of society

Pulling plants out by the roots, dusting them off, tucking them away in his pack. It's methodical, and he's doing it with little additional thought. Almost robotic, but then, if he thinks too hard then maybe he'll forget how to do it. Wake is a strange creature, he's never going to deny that. Instead, it's just relaxing. Letting his mind go unfocused, lost in the rhythm of it. All of it seemed pretty natural to him, especially when all he'd been up to lately was gardening and babysitting. A regular house husband-- that's a laugh.

The voice that shakes his concentration, brings his gaze back around, belongs to a girl. Around his age, probably, with a crown of antlers. Head lifting, peering at her with a gentle (dare he say, friendly?) look in his eye. "With pretty girls, of course." Honeyed words, beckoning her closer. "It's stronger stuff than just booze, be careful." It was only right to warn her, the laudanum flask sticky with the tincture. Plenty full, but it would only take a bit. Even Wake, with all his tolerance, had been one to make it last.

"I'm Wake." A soft introduction, offering his name with the silvered flask. Every movement fluid and easy, maybe he's flexing in the only ways he knows how.

WAKE UP