(no subject)
Ryan's sitting still for once, in the corner of a couch, dressed like he's anticipating the next ice age. He's got boots that reach almost up to his knees, gloves that are on their way to his elbows, a scarf that's probably a good ten feet long, and a hat pulled low over his forehead. Both his arms are folded across his knees, which are draw to his chest as best he can, what with the numerous layers.
"What's your favorite place?" he asks softly, a little hoarsely, like he's got a cold or a bad cough - not that hard to imagine, considering he's wearing enough clothes to live in Alaska. "Where do you feel the safest?"
"What's your favorite place?" he asks softly, a little hoarsely, like he's got a cold or a bad cough - not that hard to imagine, considering he's wearing enough clothes to live in Alaska. "Where do you feel the safest?"