[ Silco isn't About to simply stop and wait on command. Please! Instead, he kept walking, his fingers slipped the photograph into a pocket, where it seems to vanish along with the rest of him. He doesn't let go of it, but he hasn't quite started the process to weaken the man he'd stolen it from. Not yet, anyway. He thought he should at least get a bit more distance between them.
His feet continue to move, stepping back. The wind wafts the smell of... burning leaves, perhaps something a kick to it -- the closest thing he can get to tobacco in this very tiny form. Something else on the air too, like an electric, sickly zing -- pollution, or perhaps something else, it's difficult to tell, but it's prevalent.
Silco doesn't say anything. His feet are silent.
It's just a shame the earth is so loamy, it seems to shift, from this tiny man's footprints. ]
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His feet continue to move, stepping back. The wind wafts the smell of... burning leaves, perhaps something a kick to it -- the closest thing he can get to tobacco in this very tiny form. Something else on the air too, like an electric, sickly zing -- pollution, or perhaps something else, it's difficult to tell, but it's prevalent.
Silco doesn't say anything. His feet are silent.
It's just a shame the earth is so loamy, it seems to shift, from this tiny man's footprints. ]