Pricked 

touchmylawnmower:

“Owch.” He grunted, rubbing the back of his head as he grabbed the lighter and lit his cigarette. He handed it back and blew smoke upwards.  “Alrighty~”

Eric led the way to his buddy’s shop– a run down little shack of a place, clinging to the corner of a street with walls that looked to buckle at every throw of the wind. But Slingby men weren’t so easily daunted, and Eric waltzed right up to the place as though he owned it. He tugged open the door for Ronald and tossed the rest of his cigarette to pavement. “Ready, wee wain?"