[It's a cool night out in the woods, with the sun having gone down and the sky a stretch of indigo streaking black overhead. The stars are out, twinkling like little dots of snow over black velvet. Tate's got his backpack on and a bundle under his arm when he approaches the site of the tree house in making, looking up the rickety temporary ladder before ascending to the stabilized platform they've created as the basis for the house itself. No walls yet, no more than the scent of pine and sawdust - it's nice, nonetheless, to sit on as he does when he reaches the top.
He rolls out the sleeping bag he brought with him, and sets his bag next to him. Pulls out a six pack of beer and a brown paper bag full of greasy food. The burger's a bit cold but you take what you can get (literally,) when you're a thieving ghost who'd rather not bicker about permission just to get a late night snack. He eats it with one hand, using his phone with the other.]
no subject
He rolls out the sleeping bag he brought with him, and sets his bag next to him. Pulls out a six pack of beer and a brown paper bag full of greasy food. The burger's a bit cold but you take what you can get (literally,) when you're a thieving ghost who'd rather not bicker about permission just to get a late night snack. He eats it with one hand, using his phone with the other.]
the woods.
u around?