(no subject)

[pokerplayereyes]

It still felt very strange to not always have something to do with his time. As a Nightwatchman, his life had divided very cleanly down the middle -- either he was on the street, or he was in his bed. Either he was on his feet or he was on his back. He'd never had time to, say, sit in the sun with bare feet and drink coffee while the woman he was marrying was sleeping naked in the bed behind him.

There was a scar on the side of his neck, and he traced it with his fingers.
It wasn't a bad sort of second chance.