DARK, GLASSY eyes flickered over the boarded up shop opposite as smoke swirled from his nostrils, slowly dissipating as it settled in the cool night’s air. A few too many drinks ago, the thought of going home had certainly occurred to the Londoner but in the end common sense had not prevailed. Cigarette flickered in the opposite direction, the twenty-five-year-old male pushed himself off the wall and began the slow, unsteady walk home. By this time, the kids would be fast asleep and the distance would certainly give Caleb the time to sober up though he already craved the warmth of his own bed.
Necklace cold against his chest underneath his t-shirt, each step set it to bouncing as cold hands pushed into his jean pockets. Even drunk the male couldn’t get away from his responsibilities, they followed him down the deserted streets accompanying each footfall, past each long closed shop. There were bills to pay, he probably shouldn’t have spent that extra 20 quid tonight - what if something came up? The kids needed something? Almost instantly he felt guilty which was nothing short of hilarious considering that the male worked a fifty hour week and every penny he earned went on the three children his mother had left behind - first because of circumstance and then because she had left them all together. “C’mon,” the Londoner muttered to himself, cutting those thoughts off. “It’s one fuckin’ night, chill out. Just…You had too much to drink, mate, get home and go to bed.”
They say the FAKEs were the ones who tore down Los Santos and built it from scratch. No one knows where they came from. No one knows their plans. If you ask me, they’re all a bunch of lunatics. Why? They act like it’s all just a game.
I made a thing. RWBY Character themes, I saw a few videos like this and decided to make one myself I claim no credit for or ownership of anything, RWBY is property of Rooster Teeth (RIP Monty Oum) all songs are properties of their respective artists/record labels FULL TRACKLIST BELOW
“How early do you get up exactly?” Taylor asked, yawing and eyeing Caleb behind the counter distastefully. It was around 8 in the morning and still far too early to get up in Taylor’s opinion. “You’re never home even when I get up early.” Which is to say, before 9.