smilestopscars | Room 210, Sunday Evening

Room 210, Sunday Evening

Ezra had slumped face first onto his bed.

He'd been in Boston for most of the weekend. Working the bar at Purgatory, then a night of several Halloween parties and the inevitable encounters with fun, pretty people. No wonder he was exhausted. And thus having faceplanted right into bed in last night's clothes as soon as he'd gotten his bags in through the door.

Was he even awake? Debatable.

[ooc: Door cracked, post open! I am traveling home and on tiny phone internets so some SP applies.]

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Dante'd spent last night hanging out in a bar that didn't sell liquor to minors, surrounded by old people. That had been incredibly disappointing, which was why tonight he'd ganked one of the two bottles under his bed and gone looking around for something fun to do.

He passed by Ezra's room first, just to see if the guy was back yet.

... Sleeping, apparently. If he hadn't been drinking, he'd have left it at that and moved on.

Instead Dante stopped by the crack in the door for what he meant to be like, 20 seconds, just to tilt his head and see if Ezra genuinely had fallen asleep in his own clothes and maybe drop an amused snort about it.

He was easily entertained.

Ezra could be kind of a heavy sleeper when he knew an environment was safe. Also, when he'd partied through the night.

Had he been in fox form, his ears would have twitched at the snort. As it was, though, there was no way of knowing that he'd heard it and couldn't be bothered to fully wake up to do anything about it.

Dante took a swig of his drink. He should really just let well enough alone.

You know what? He was going to be nice and step in so he could shut Ezra's door on him. "Never thought you'd ever forget to take your pants off," he mused, as he did so.

Slightly louder than he'd planned to.

"Murgh," said Ezra.

Then, mostly muffled by the pillow because moving his head was too much effort for little payoff, "Didn't have a need to take 'em off."

Oh, sure. Talk back. Now Dante had to stop mid-door closing to be a smartass. (Gently, for his standards.)

"Yeah, I'll bet that's real comfortable," he said.

Big words from the guy who slept in his pants half the time because he basically owned almost no underwear.

Edited 2015-11-01 14:48 (UTC)

"'M feeling very judged."

He was not very pleased. He didn't sound very displeased either, but that was hard to tell.

"I'm not judging," Dante said. "Just try and stay upwind from me in the cafetaria tomorrow morning?"

He did not in fact really care one way or the other (and he didn't really sound like he cared, either), beyond a very vague and distant notion that it really might be uncomfortable that he wasn't nearly mother henny enough to do anything about.

What was uncomfortable was the way his nose was getting smushed against the pillow. He turned his head and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric imstead.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to imply."

Dante put his shoulder to the wall right next to the open door, widened the crack some again, and peered inside. "The power kicked back in this morning," he said. "You're gonna sweat like hell."

"No one cares about that, Dante."

That was slightly less muffled. Or really, slightly less mumbled.

"Oh, they're going to if they have to deal with the smell," Dante said merrily. "The public deserves your consideration."

"Your insistence that I'm going to smell anything other than fabulous tomorrow," Ezra replied, managing a sigh somewhere in there, "means I must insist you leave and take your petty insults with you."

Dante rolled his eyes and took another swig from his bottle. "You're adorable when you're grumping it up," he said. Which, to be fair, was actually true, rather than an insult. "Try not to fall asleep with the door open, all right? Bunch of assholes in this dorm."

"I've dealt with worse."

By far.

"I figured."

That was probably the booze talking, at least in terms of admitting that.

"Still."

"Touching." He brought his hand slowly up to his head. Rubbed the back of his neck. "You can close it as you go if you're so concerned, darling."

"I was planning to back when you were dead to the world," Dante said, shrugging lightly. "Had a decent weekend?"

Better question than 'are you okay', right? Right.

Ezra heaved a theatrical sigh and finally rolled on to his back. He even opened his eyes.

Well, one of them. Still counted. "Fantastic, cupcake."

Drama queen.

"Good," Dante said. Lightly. "Guess I should leave you to your nap."

Was it just him, or did Ezra seem weirdly high-strung, sometimes?

Ezra himself felt mostly slightly phlegmatic and kind of bored.

(Which really added up to tired.)

He shrugged, vaguely.

Dante squinted at him through the gap between door and wall. Yeah, that shrug was completely unhelpful. Though really, considering that, he really should go looking for entertainment somewhere else.

"At least take off the belt," he said, "That's going to be a pain in the ass in the morning."

Then he shut the door. Gently.

Ezra, for his part, rolled his eyes at the whole thing.

Was it too late to disappear back out onto the mainland? He could feel restlessness seeping back in past the tired and he could always sleep when he was dead.

It'd been stupid of him to come back so early, anyway.

And that's why you kept going until your body physically passed out on you. At least if you asked Dante.

Who took another swig of his drink, and then wandered towards the stairs. Maybe someone else would still be awake right now.

It wasn't even that late, really. Especially in a building full of teenagers.

Ezra made his decision. He got up. Went and changed his shirt for something he hadn't already been wearing for most of the past 36 hours or so.

Then, he slid his jacket back on, and slipped quietly out into the hallway.

Alana lived on the third floor, much like Dante himself. Isabela, however, lived on Ezra's floor, just a few rooms down.

So... yeah, he was hovering near the stairs, trying to decide which way to go. Just for a couple of moments. Not much longer than the time anyone would need to change a shirt.

He was five seconds from making the decision when he heard the click of a door, and glanced over his shoulder.

Ezra couldn't even decide if he was surprised or not. His demeanor leaned towards not bothering to show any surprise, at least.

He closed his door and set off down the hallway with a light nod of greeting. "Evening."

Dante lowered the bottle he was holding, and if he felt any curiosity in this moment, he wasn't showing it. "Definitely is one of those," he said. "Thought you were sleeping."

"Sleep is for the weak and boring, darling," Ezra replied lighty, and smiled so easily that it really called into question just how genuine his smiles were just in general. "I'd have thought you of all people would know that."

Ezra, Dante had been starting to grasp for a while now, was a lot like a very pretty rug thrown over a (sometimes?) tightly strung-up rope. Not that he was going to call him on it.

Any time soon, anyway.

"Hey, I like naps," Dante said easily. "Sometimes."

"Well, perhaps you'd benefit from one," Ezra suggested, still lightly. "You smell like booze. Must be tiring."

Dante let out a soft grunt that... might have been a laugh? Might not have been.

"Ez, if one bottle of booze could knock me on my ass, my nights would be a lot easier," he said. "More boring, though."

"Admittedly the two thoughts weren't all that related," Ezra replied. He'd stopped now, by the stairs, but he didn't look like he planned to linger. "Oh well."

Considering Dante had already given up Ezra as a lost cause for the evening right around the moment he'd first caught the guy asleep, he wasn't about to go racing after him, either.

Was definitely starting to lean Alana-wards, though. Especially with Ez having a moment of... whatever the fuck he was having.

He pressed his shoulder against the wall, instead. "Right," he said. "At least you got 'em out of your system."

Ezra was more of a lost cause when it came to a lot of things than most people realized.

He smiled, lips together.

"Mmh. Well, darling, it was nice to chat but I have grown-up business to attend to."

Mostly whatever of that Dante had picked up tonight left him worried. He didn't like worried.

Worried was both pointless and a whole lot of bullshit.

He put the bottle to his mouth, taking a gulp in an effort to chase that whole thing away. Didn't work. "Hey, darling," he called, pulling away from the wall-- to head for the upstairs stairs, not the ones leading down. "Next time? 'Fuck off' is easier. And shorter. And quicker."

He threw Ezra a smirk on his way past. 'Worried' was bullshit. Anger and attitude had always served him a whole lot better.

"Too crass. Pass."

Did that sound a little... personal? Oops. Didn't matter to Ezra, though. "Ta-ta." And he was off down the stairs, his step much lighter than it felt.

Couldn't tell he wasn't smiling anymore from the back of his head. Not that he thought Dante was looking. Not that that mattered, either.

Good thing, too, 'cause Dante's sublimating of everything into neat categories like pissed and bored and looking for a distraction didn't work fast enough not to leave him pausing, however briefly, over the first step of the stairs upwards.

Maybe he should--

Nope. Not finishing that thought. Finishing the step, instead.

Fuck, he hoped Alana was still up. He didn't need Ezra's shitty mood gumming up the hard work he'd been doing not thinking about Monday or the Monday before that or his shitty fucking life in general, thanks.

Edited 2015-11-02 22:59 (UTC)

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Room 210, Sunday Evening

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