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If eye rolling could possibly produce a sound, the din would have been deafening in that moment. Bitter? Yes, always, but not jealous. "Did I say I was jealous? I wouldn't want to switch places with Rodney for the world." But he noticed Lawr didn't object to the 'pet' part of his sentence. Horace had never thought Lawrence was sleeping with Rodney, simply because it was kind of difficult to even think about Rodney having sexual characteristics. The fact that Rodney, who didn't seem stupid, though misguided, stayed with Lawr just because he didn't want a basement room was...odd to Horace.

"The intention was, obviously, to get laid," he said, his tone nearly as cold as Lawrnece's. "I was only commenting on it because I didn't think I could believe it - that you would let food, or the lack of it, control you to the point of death."

"Oh, you're paying for his art supplies too? How nice." Maybe he carved little religious figurines for Lawrence or something. Horace shifted, feeling Lawr's bones poke out sharply here and there.

"Ok, I get it. You're in control of starving yourself to death. It sounds fun. I'ts not about aesthetics - obviously people find you attractive, they'd just rather you not die." Many more dead people - what did that even mean? The only thing that sprang to mind was Elizabeth Bathory and if Lawrence had been bathing in people's blood, surely Horace would have been added to that number by now. He was, after all, eighteen and at a nice young age for blood-bathing. Or something.

"What do you mean - many more dead people?" he said, forcing a joking tone into his voice. "How many would it take?"

"An even weight doesn't mean it's a sustainable weight." Horace knew enough from just high school classes to know that. "It certainly was dropping, you're different than you were." In more ways than one, he thought. Losing Chantelle, being with Melvin.. it all made Lawrence changes in ways he held no influence over. He gathered Lawrence closer, the island was still chilly but it was finally nice under the sheets.

"As many as - are you some Elizabeth Bathory?" He snorted. Horace had no doubt Lawrence would kill if he thought it would benefit him. But he was weak now, thin, fragile, and would get into deep s**t for hurting another hunter.

He took Lawr's reluctance to talk about his weight in good stride. At least that meant he wasn't getting mad. "A deal - like some kinda back alley bargain. I wonder who's getting the better of it." He didn't like the sound of that, really didn't, but he figured it was unwise to push. "For a pure man, you do some very impure things," he said, his hand sliding down Lawrence's thigh. Horace kissed one bony shoulder lingeringly before he was distracted by Lawr's comment about bathing.

"Well, you've got some accommodations for that. I would like to be promoted soon, thought I've not done anything worthy. And I've never been in a hot tub - why?"

Horace frowned. That was certainly cryptic enough, but everyone always thought they were getting the better deal until the end. It was beyond troubling. "You sure you can fulfill it - being that your body might blow away in a stiff breeze? And a hot tub sounds nice." He hummed for a second, segueing from one topic to the next in an attempt to keep Lawr's ire at a low level.

"I've never had the opportunity; it might be nice. My funds are fine, could stand a nice vacation. Where would we go?" Even as he spoke, his mind was screaming at him to not make more bad decisions. He effectively shut it up in a box, for a little while at least. He was never going to not be afraid of Lawrence, not after what had happened, but he was becoming better and better at compartmentalizing. That was a good thing... right?

"It'd be nice to get away, to pretend a little." He ducked his head to kiss Lawrence, one hand sliding up to cup his face. His cheekbones rose like tombstones from the hollows of his skin. Horace pushed the thought aside, mostly. Maybe he could get him to eat a little, while they were away. For stamina or luxury or something.

"Greece, maybe?" His hand moved to stroke a path down Lawrence's back, his spine feeling as delicate as glass. Above all, Horace didn't want to make him mad again, and if that meant being subtle or letting things slide until later, so be it. There was time - or he could pretend there was. "When do you have leave again?" He wasn't sure if Lawrence would even be allowed off island in such a state. He kissed Lawr again, almost reverently, and his hand slid in between them.

"I guess you could say a lot of the people around here could be turned into statues - a little bit for everyone." Though Horace was by far not attracted to all of them, the island did have a good....better than good share of pretty people. Peak physical form (for most) and all that.

He wrinkled his nose, feeling light-hearted as long as he ignored his ever-present sense of dread. "Today is asking miracles of admin work. Hmm, next week? If we go during the week we can still book a nice room." Weekends would most definitely be sold out unless he was willing to grease palms with far more cash than he wanted to spend. Cash was transitory, but that didn't mean Horace wanted to be broke.

"You want a hot tub in the room, right?"

"Mmm, as long as your calendar's not too crowded." Horace no longer had any idea of Lawrence's schedule. He used to, before... He frowned, deliberately pushing the thought away, and thought of something else. Perhaps during the hotel stay, he could convince the other man to eat regularly. Thought, if Melvin couldn't do it, what made him think he could succeed? Oddly enough, at the thought Janissari stirred in his mind, a thread of dissent shivering through his mind. He didn't chase it. Despite essentially living in each other's heads, they rarely spoke anymore and he didn't try.

He ducked his head to kiss Lawr once, then twice, and a third before pulling back. "Now, didn't you promise me dinner and a snack?" he asked breathily. "I'm hardly satisfied and I doubt you are, either."