Video | Open :: Action | Somewhat open

[fictor]

[ There's a scowling, angry boy with pale skin and a shaved head. He's got a five o' clock shadow and is wearing a black tank top. The sharp edges of tattoo can be seen curling up out of his collar and covering one shoulder. There is, almost impossibly looking, a raven sitting on that tattoo shoulder pressed against the boy's shaved head. ]

I hate these fucking things. [ Phones. He hates cellphones and the PDA is basically a smart phone that only works within Itinere.]

So the doors back home aren't working. From what I hear, that's not unusual. Anything else weird happen here, or did we all pervenire in solidum?

[ The boy starts to shove the phone into his pocket, speaking to someone off screen as he does--Come on, Parrish abeamus. Find these goddamn apartment buildings]


[ooc: If someone would like to intercept Adam and Ronan on the way to the apartment building or happen upon them in the lobby, feel free. You're liable to get one or both of them. ]

Comments

[fictor]

It should be clear by the way Ronan looked at Adam that he liked skinny, at least the kind of skinny that Adam was. That wasn't to say that Ronan wouldn't keep trying to feed Adam. He wasn't mother hen enough to want to 'fatten' Adam up, but he cared enough to want to take care of him. Part of that was feeding someone.

Ronan smirked at that. If he thought Adam would be comfortable with it, he would reach and grab his shirt, he would glide his fingertips over Adam's stomach. Instead, he kept his hands to himself just as he'd promised. "No fucking way," he scoffed. His words probably making it clear enough that Ronan liked him the way he was.

His eyebrows lifted slightly at Adam's words. He wasn't sure how to respond to them. Ronan was comfortable enough flirting (at least his version of flirting) but he didn't know what to do with something genuine, something fragile and sincere. Maybe it was the whispered secret quality of the words, or the moment, or the fact that they were here alone. Whatever it was, he opted to let go of artifice and attitude and simply respond with the truth.

"Then I won't stop looking."

[adamparrish]

Adam's fingers itched to reach out to Ronan too and Adam had no idea if not just Ronan would be okay with that, but whether he would be okay with the move himself either. It was all too new and complicated. So instead, he curled his arms up, one under the pillow beneath his head and the other hand sliding under the pillow as well.

The corners of his lips twitched with a hint of a smile at the idea that Ronan wouldn't quit watching. It made him feel better than he would admit to right now. He'd already said a lot more than he had intended. So finally he closes his eyes.

"G'night Ronan." He says softly. He would try like hell to stay asleep where he is. In the morning though, before the son even got up, he would wake up to find himself wrapped around Ronan and fall back asleep that way.

[fictor]

And Ronan won't push, not right now anyway. He takes his cue from Adam, not curling up quite the way Adam does, but folds one arm under his pillow and rests his head on it.

Ronan returns the hint of a smile with a satisfied smirk of his own.

"Night, Parrish," Ronan responds, closing his eyes. When he does realize that Adam is wrapped up around him later, he won't move or push Adam off of him. He'll just go back to sleep until insomnia, restlessness and a too active mind drive him from bed, any hope of sleep gone forever.