(no subject)
He’s a crotchety old teenager, whose voice has the sort of piercing, gravelly treble possessed only by the prematurely aged. When he sits, he slouches, with stiff and wiry limbs arrayed in all sorts of strange and unnatural angles, so that it would appear as though he were some sort of puffing, leather clad bush, or tree. When addressed, he responds with a grating “whaaaa?” Navigating through conversations with him is like trudging through a fog laden swamp. You never know where you’re going exactly, and all that’s certain is that, by the end of the night, there’ll be a lot more smoke in the air.