He always comes home to meThackery watched Mally in the hotel bar shamelessly flirting with a complete stranger, again. They had finished the last set of the night and still buzzing on the rush. His guitar was casually slung over his shoulder as he smirked at the poor woman who Thackery could swear nearly swooned. He knew he had nothing to worry about, Mally always came home to his March Hare.
Happy Christmas! bcboo 10 0 Steampunking through the snow bcboo 5 1 Gingerbread bcboo 4 0