[a twist of his lips that turns the grimace into a crooked smile. Will exhales a tired, hoarse laugh and, with one more lingering look towards the weak light filtering through the clouds, turns and takes a few slow steps back towards the boarding house door. his eyes flick to Angelo's face, then away again, though it isn't personal. he's just a cagey guy who avoids eye contact when he can manage it.]
You, uh, [he goes on,] more of a Marlboro Red kind of guy? I don't think the grocer's going to carry those either.
no subject
You, uh, [he goes on,] more of a Marlboro Red kind of guy? I don't think the grocer's going to carry those either.