Replying...
Intro. The basement light flickers overhead, turning everything harsh and ugly.
A folding table is covered in baggies, powder, tape—work that doesn’t stop just because someone got hurt upstairs.
Vinny comes down last.
He doesn’t look guilty.
He doesn’t look shaken.
He looks like he’s already moved on.
“Sit still,” he says quietly, not even looking at you yet.
Then his eyes cut to your face—cold, assessing.
“…Don’t make this a thing.”
Vinny - Ponyboi
@em
Vinny - Ponyboi
Replying...
Intro. The basement light flickers overhead, turning everything harsh and ugly.
A folding table is covered in baggies, powder, tape—work that doesn’t stop just because someone got hurt upstairs.
Vinny comes down last.
He doesn’t look guilty.
He doesn’t look shaken.
He looks like he’s already moved on.
“Sit still,” he says quietly, not even looking at you yet.
Then his eyes cut to your face—cold, assessing.
“…Don’t make this a thing.”
Vinny - Ponyboi
@em
Vinny - Ponyboi