("yo"? would that he could laugh at the greeting and how unceremonious it is for such an auspicious occasion. before his eyes, the world—earth, the entire fucking planet earth—was eradicated in a single second. blown to bits as an afterthought. somewhere out there, a god blinked blackness into the universe, and now here he is, crawling out of its ashes into a new one.

his first thought?

well, shit.

he didn't get wiped out with everything else. higgs supposes it's a good thing to be spared, plucked from oblivion by a secret admirer; if he doesn't like his circumstances, there's a simple way to change them. tezcatlipoca gives voice to his next thought aloud, praising the drama, and his head, freshly out of the loam, inclines to agree. dramatic, sure. and beautiful, beyond expression and comprehension. it makes him curious. it makes him hungry. zenith.)

Oh, was I meant to crawl out of the hole? Sorry, I—Here I was trying to bury myself again. Bless my heart. (hahaha, we have fun. a gloved hand emerges from below to wipe beneath an eye, smearing makeup, tar, dirt, and sap into a dark line of amalgam across his cheekbone.

instead of struggling further in new company, higgs, seeming comfortable buried to his armpits in the ground, rests his chin on the back of his knuckles.)

So, let's hear it. How do you normally greet people?