clussy: ÉŠáī„áīÉī ʙʏ ÉŠáī„áīÉīs朰áīĘ€Ę™ÉŠáī›áī„Ęœáī‡s (áī›áīœáīĘ™ĘŸĘ€) (𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 ðšĒ𝚘𝚞)
eddie kaspbrak ([personal profile] clussy) wrote in [community profile] quietplacelogs 2018-02-13 09:06 pm (UTC)

A.

(Eddie is an explorer, to some extent, by nature. Then again, most boys his age were, and he wanted to familiarize himself with this strange new world that seemed much more permanent than the station had. He was also honestly trying to distract himself. They had taken everything from home from him. Even the pin fastened to his jumpsuit was technically from the station. He supposed his inhaler was from home, but not the part of home he wanted to remember. It wasn't his bike. That and well, he'd made some friends on the station. Not many of them had seemed to come through with him.

So, Eddie was a bit lost in his own head, and trying his best not to obviously sulk. He's left his own deck, wandering along the rows of decks, when he notices a man on his own deck. Eddie slows to a stop and instinctively tucks away against the deck just beside the man's, pressing himself flat against it. It did a good job of hiding him.

Er.

Half of him, that is, the other half of him poking out as he watched the man.

But the thing is? Eddie's twelve. Which means one thing: he cannot resist the siren call of hot dogs. He can't even remember the last time he had a hot dog- or...the last time he had a proper meal, actually. His mouth waters and he slooowly creeps out from behind the deck, wandering a little closer.

Don't mind the random stray child eye-balling you, Frank.)

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