( It's just like Gallagher to take the flow of time as it is, even when the circumstances around them are uniquely suspicious. A resort in Hell? Gallagher embraces him despite their bloody history - not them specifically save for the time he took it upon himself to stab him - but their masters. Sunday still doesn't know much of Gallagher himself, but what he does know is that he's disturbingly fine with his arms around him. Only in Hell can one truly go manic, no?
And based on what he does know about him, from the placement of his scars to his eyelashes to the aging lines giving him his character - Sunday would be able to easily tell if this were a real Gallagher or another lie. He turns around to first inspect his features. It's him. No questions asked.
Stark is the difference between their aesthetic choices. Golden palm trees against white, soft fabrics and white swimming trunks. Void of taste, really, and yet there are no stains or wrinkles on them. He begins undoing the buttons on his shirt, gaze still on him as he follows the order - it could be useful to Gallagher if he sees if they're going to be some kind of team here. The Clubs is bestowed upon the middle of his chest, laced around it is a vertical oval resembling the eye of Ena. )
This is it.
( He glances down at their bodies, at his shorts. Knowing Gallagher, he picked those himself and shocking to the world, Sunday also keeps judgment at bay. Instead, something else emerges, sadness. ) You miss your pets, I see.
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And based on what he does know about him, from the placement of his scars to his eyelashes to the aging lines giving him his character - Sunday would be able to easily tell if this were a real Gallagher or another lie.
He turns around to first inspect his features. It's him. No questions asked.
Stark is the difference between their aesthetic choices. Golden palm trees against white, soft fabrics and white swimming trunks. Void of taste, really, and yet there are no stains or wrinkles on them. He begins undoing the buttons on his shirt, gaze still on him as he follows the order - it could be useful to Gallagher if he sees if they're going to be some kind of team here. The Clubs is bestowed upon the middle of his chest, laced around it is a vertical oval resembling the eye of Ena. )
This is it.
( He glances down at their bodies, at his shorts. Knowing Gallagher, he picked those himself and shocking to the world, Sunday also keeps judgment at bay. Instead, something else emerges, sadness. ) You miss your pets, I see.