[ deep breaths. deep breaths, and minutes cannot span the length he stands at a distance, eyes fixed on a figure measuring a tree against his arms and legs, his hands and hold. it's not the sort of sight he's ever seen, but it's understandable. it fits.
but he goes forward, in the end -- at an easy pace, dusting unseen leaves off his coat, tugging his gloves tight against his fingers. he lays a hand at the trunk, he looks up -- he smiles, and it's a Vessalius smile, Jack's old smile. as it might have been a hundred years ago.
let's call it 5, and also the ruin of your inbox. 8)
but he goes forward, in the end -- at an easy pace, dusting unseen leaves off his coat, tugging his gloves tight against his fingers. he lays a hand at the trunk, he looks up -- he smiles, and it's a Vessalius smile, Jack's old smile. as it might have been a hundred years ago.
how Vincent loathes the unexpected. ]
You do climb as well as any boy. Don't you?