[ Mouse's sense of direction isn't great but he's not a moron. It takes him longer than he'd thought to figure out the way the doors were numbered, but he's not running late when he finally turns the corner in sight of 140. Whatever Dean may have been expecting, what he gets is this:
A teenage boy, scrawny and narrow-shouldered and way shorter than a kid his age should be, comes trotting along in his oh-so-conveniently provided crew uniform and a denim jacket (http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lokd1l7OU01qdqlmwo1_500.png), courtesy of his uncanny locker inventory. He's got metal through his nose and his tongue and his hair — unruly and stubbornly stuck in random directions is white blonde with ginger-colored routes. When he walks, he keeps his hands shoved deep into his pockets or pulled deep inside the overly long sleeves of his jacket. When he catches sight of Dean, he smiles a curiously crooked little smile and then lifts his hand, the tips of his fingers peeking out from his sleeve as he waves.
( action, action WE WANT SOME ACTION )
A teenage boy, scrawny and narrow-shouldered and way shorter than a kid his age should be, comes trotting along in his oh-so-conveniently provided crew uniform and a denim jacket (http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lokd1l7OU01qdqlmwo1_500.png), courtesy of his uncanny locker inventory. He's got metal through his nose and his tongue and his hair — unruly and stubbornly stuck in random directions is white blonde with ginger-colored routes. When he walks, he keeps his hands shoved deep into his pockets or pulled deep inside the overly long sleeves of his jacket. When he catches sight of Dean, he smiles a curiously crooked little smile and then lifts his hand, the tips of his fingers peeking out from his sleeve as he waves.
Jerky time. ]