[The can goes pinwheeling out across the grass, landing not far from the guttering flames, the hot belch of oily smoke pouring from the edged fire. The Mirror grins as he ducks, dropping into a roll in time to fetch the gas can back. The guy doesn't like fire, it seems like.
Let's see if he wants to dance in the fire.]
You ever think about therapy, maybe?
[He skips backwards and, timing it right - springs neatly over the burning stripe of grass that forms the capitalized "R" in his little message. Come and get him, if you don't mind a little heat.]
I hear there's great practitioners on this side of the glass.
no subject
Let's see if he wants to dance in the fire.]
You ever think about therapy, maybe?
[He skips backwards and, timing it right - springs neatly over the burning stripe of grass that forms the capitalized "R" in his little message. Come and get him, if you don't mind a little heat.]
I hear there's great practitioners on this side of the glass.