|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2016 6:06 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"Yeah sure," Chris says. It's easy to agree, when he has nothing to do and he sees Thorne as a fine person to spend time with. The reward is just extra, although he's not going to tell Thorne that. Especially something sweet, because if the reward is as good as the cupcakes then he's willing to do most anything. Even grade a hundred essays, which is honestly torture and why Chris has respect for most english teachers.
"I'll prefer the sweet as my reward though, I'm still holding out for the alien vodka. Where do you want me to show up?"
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2016 9:17 pm
cupcake carousels "I'm glad you're still alive then, by some small miracle, because that sounds like it should stop your heart or blow it up," Thorne retorts, glancing at the other man. He wonders about Chris, the respectable teacher, who has now been up for three days straight. It is an odd picture, but one he likes.
Thorne laughs as he follows his gaze. "I'll show you something better sometime," he says mildly, "those are all works in progress for a man with - peculiar tastes. And a few vents." His eyes flicker up and away to the windows, the breeze outside, and back to Chris. The very edge of dawn is climbing the horizon now.
His phone buzzes out a message but he ignores it and shakes his head. "Sounds good," he responds, his voice low and gentle, his smile warm and inviting. "Feel free to terrorize me whenever you want." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, looking down at the bright light of his phone. Jeremiah is telling him to make Chris sleep, and he wonders what alternative he has to launching the other man onto his couch as an attempt.
"The grandads want us to be responsible," he says, his tone husky with amusement. He looks over at Chris and huffs a half-yawn. "As though they weren't absolutely ******** wild in their youth too. And don't worry. I'm good on my promises. At strange hours, maybe, and with the same sentiment - if I'm not dead, dying, or asleep - but all the same." Thorne sways back, angling his upper body at dangerously into the zone of tilting off of the counter if he isn't careful. He stares up at the ceiling, hands falling to cling to his ankles where they're now crossed one over the other.
"I'd hope not," Thorne says softly, "insomnia is a special kind of evil, I think. It lives in the deepest recesses of hell, fueled by monster coffee and energy drink floats." He shakes his head, looking over at Chris. There is a thoughtful sort of gaze there, unfiltered by the usual boundaries that people were meant to put up on eight hours of sleep and a regular schedule. He clicks his tongue and says, "I think everything starts a bit rough with Shiloh. I chased him half-way across a parking lot and then we sat down and drew together. And it worked. Somehow."
He closes his eyes and exhales sharply. "We'll have to find out where alien vodka fits onto that alignment chart sooner or later too." He opens one eye, still dangerously tilted back. "What do you think? Lawful evil? Chaotic evil?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2016 9:41 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
Thorne grins, lips quirking. He's leaned up against a moving van, and he waits for the approval before saying, "Sweets it is. The pyramids didn't work, I guess. We'll have to find another way. How do you feel about mowing down crop circles out in the cornfields?"
He kicks away from his perch and pulls open the door to the vehicle. "1633 Coalsmoke Avenue. If it looks like you've ended up in some sort of dump, that's the place. I'll see you on the other side, yeah?"
He turns the ignition and drives before waiting for an answer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2016 6:38 pm
cupcake carousels
"I'm glad too because I was pretty sure my heart would stop too when my hands started shaking uncontrollably but here I am," He says, but it's lighthearted. He likes Thorne, despite this really being their first meeting where it isn't under more dire circumstances. It's nice to just talk.
"Please do," He replies while fishing out his own phone. He glances at it with only vague interest before placing it back down on the counter. "It really is nice, so I want to know what you don't describe as peculiar or vents."
Still, Chris looks at the art once more before bringing his attention back to Thorne. "It'll probably be less terrorizing you and more just sitting here complaining about grading papers," He shifts in his spot, stretching slightly. "I think the english teachers are going to rope me into grading summer school essays or something."
He scowls, finally picking up his phone and looking through the group text. Sure enough, Jeremiah is trying to convince Thorne. "I think we could do worse than staying up late and eating cupcakes," He says, although it's more of a whine than any actual defense. He knows he hasn't been sleeping right. "I need to get blackmail from Algie or something. All I know is he's burned stuff while cooking before which, while funny, isn't that good of anything." He hums though, watching Thorne with amusement and concern.
"Do you think it's personified in the other place? Like some weird, sludgy monster just roaming around?" It's half jest, half serious, and Chris tips his head back as he stares at the ceiling. It only lasts a moment and he looks back at Thorne, returning his gaze comfortably, the way two people who've gone way past their normal social limits can only really achieve. The form of bonding coming from just being unable to function properly. "Did you really? Honestly, I didn't even do that bad in the scheme of things then," Chris laughs, surprised. It fits Shiloh though, despite it all.
"Mm well, I have to taste it to be sure but.." He's playing with the cup he was given now, draining it of the milk before setting it down. "I'm thinking maybe Lawful evil as a start. Because obviously, it has to be some fantastic vodka and thus it's pretty lawful because I think it'll probably get me drunk pretty quick. Or at least won't taste like battery acid going down."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2016 6:42 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"Sounds like a date, I'll secure the mower if you secure the cornfield?" Chris is pulling on his boots as he talks, phone tucked against his ear and a smile on his face. "We'll get them down here with their fantastic alcohol one way or another."
"Yeah, see you there," Chris says, shoving his wallet into his pocket and grabbing his keys.
He's in his car quickly and the drive isn't long, although Thorne wasn't kidding about the location as he drives to it, looking for some sign of life that's familiar and not a drug dealer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2016 10:06 pm
cupcake carouselsThorne's breathy laugh fills the air, strained only by lack of sleep. His expression is wild and pleased, eyes half-lidded and aglow from the fairy-lights he'd strung up in two large potted plants that anchored either side of the island they were perched on.
"Next time you decide to do something as potentially heart-stopping as brewing monster coffee, please reconsider," Thorne responds, "or at least text me first. I don't know that I'll call 911 but I'll help you draw a straight line."
His eyes drift with Chris's to the art, the mess of it all. He smells paint and remembers all of the unfinished things he's been working on. For weeks he had been unable to paint. Trapped inside of himself, listless with every morning he swallowed down his night-terrors and turned himself two-dimensional for another person.
The frustration wells and spills out from the vent pieces. Reminding him of the fresh scar tissue and the healing process that has finally started again.
"So you're charming and good at flattery," Thorne retorts, "Damn. I'll have to step up my game." Another laugh coils from his throat. "I'll show you though. When there's something better to see." He's had gallery features before, has an entire website - but he feels like he'd rather show a personal account of his art. Something unfiltered.
"You're a bargain deal then," Thorne breathes in return, and looks over at Chris with a cat's smile. "I can't promise I'll be helpful at all. If I find you drowning in a pile of very poorly written college essays though, I'll make sure to bring a shot or two of something strong." He can't imagine it - grading anything, especially with so little sleep. He would probably roll a dice to determine who passed and failed.
Chaotic indeed.
"We could do a lot worse, a thing which we are being given very little credit for," Thorne responds, staring up at the ceiling. "For one, we're completely sober. We're also not waking up in strangers households, or getting tattoos at 1AM. We're just - trying to summon aliens." His eyes flicker, as though lighting with some inward flame at the mention of Algie. He'd never met the man before apart from the text chat, but if he was Jeremiah's significant other... well...
"That," Thorne says, drawing the word out into a luxurious purr as he stretches his hands above his head, feeling his aching muscles pull taut, "will probably require skill and time and a very cunning plot. More cunning, I think, than I'm capable of tonight." He glances at Chris, dropping his hands and cocking his head. "If it is, I hope we never run into it unless I'm allowed to strike a bargain wherein I never have to sleep again."
Something dark creeps at the edge of his words, the reasoning behind why Thorne hates sleep so much. But it passes into a mask again, quicker than snubbing a flame. Thorne watches Chris, his eyes languid and honest, ghosting with the demons in his own head.
"I think I might be defending champion for most explosive meeting with Shiloh," Thorne says and sighs, a laughter curling in the sound. "I carried him straight back into the art shop and he very gently told me where I could shove it." His eyes lit with amusement. "But I've been there. Where he was when I met him. I had to do something."
He looks down, thumbing over the soft flesh that connects his index finger to his thumb. "Does that make most alcohol Lawful in some sense of the word, or just the s**t that puts you on the floor at 1AM?" He looks up at Chris and laughs. "God, here's hoping. I'd like to find something to get s**t-faced on without pretending that I love drinking battery acid for a living. I've tried some pretty nasty stuff, but if aliens have discovered decent tasting vodka, I want in."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2016 10:19 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"I think I can manage that, let me just flatter a few farmers," Thorne responds, his voice warm and wicked with delight. "I think we have a fair chance. Maybe crop circles are secretly an alien SOS."
He drives until he reaches the warehouse - Coalsmoke. The gravel drive is like a familiar hello, reminding him how rough and un-hewn this place actually is. The new flooring is finally in, a working, unfinished kitchen set in place, a bathroom in the works. Thorne has been using a gruesome chunk of the money accumulated from his late fathers trust-fund to both purchase and finance the project.
After all, it had been collecting dust for long enough.
He see Chris pull up and smirks, grateful for the sudden appearance of the other. He could hire paid work to move boxes, but why bother?
"Hey," he said, waving Chris over once he was out of the car, "ever find sleep?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 25, 2016 10:52 pm
cupcake carousels
Chris rolls his eyes, but the gesture is affectionate more than actually mocking, warm and happy more than anything else. "I'll text you next time, since if I ever do decide to brew that stuff again it would be for some dire circumstances. Probably involve me grading AP tests or worse, Freshman Undergrad papers," He shakes his head, but there's still some joy there. "Also I would need someone to get rid of the coffee machine. Did you know that by doing that, it basically kills the machine? I would need someone to help hide the evidence, lest the teaching department comes after me."
He laughs in surprise, looking and Thorne with something between amusement and disbelief. "It's because of the lack of sleep, trust me, I'm never this smooth any other time. You should've seen me as a college freshman, every time I tried to flirt with a girl or a guy it was the most awkward fumbling ever." It had truly been the most awkward thing, Chris young and alone and rather unconfident in himself. He had grown into his confidence in the later years, had learned how to fake it until he was making it, but flirting had never been his forte and well, his life was already hard enough with his major. No need to throw dating into the fray.
(His adviser had cried when Chris had told him that, much to Chris' endless amusement.)
"Are you calling me cheap? I'll have you know that I am an expensive date and will only accept the finest shots of alcohol to revive me," He says, mock offended, but can't help the delighted giggle that gives him away. "Nah, you're helpful enough by just even suggesting to bring alcohol to grading. Or just even being there. It's always faster when I have someone to complain to, especially when they reply back. My cat only handles so much before he just wanders off."
Chris gives Thorne an appraising look, something questioning in his eyes as his mouth quirks upwards into a smile. "Are you telling me that's all things you've done? But I agree, we're really getting no credit at all. We could be doing much worse things, you and I." He would complain to Jeremiah and Alg later, when he wasn't nearly delirious from his lack of sleep and wouldn't get yelled at and then forced into a bed. When he had more of a definite argument to stand on.
"Mmm," Chris agrees, stretching a little himself. "It'd be better to put it off for another night too, one where Jer is cooking. Could come over, have something to eat and maybe get what we wanted. Alg likes when I visit." He looks back at Thorne, eyes crinkling at the edges. "I don't think it'd be that generous but then again, we are summoning aliens for their vodka. Who knows."
One day, he'd ask Thorne about that. Would push at the little signs he saw, try to know him better. But right now, at some ungodly hour, was not the time and he lets it slip between his fingers, let it be forgotten.
"Oh yes, that's definitely Shiloh. I honestly thought he was going to do the same when I approached him," Chris laughs, but it's a soft sound now. Appreciative. Tentatively he leans towards Thorne, rests his head on his shoulder, ready to pull away if he didn't want it. "I'm glad you were there then. I'm.. I couldn't do that. But I'm glad someone else could."
"Hm.. just the floor stuff I guess. I don't think I can imagine beer as lawful, it's more of a neutral if anything. Or chaotic." He waves his hand around lazily, trying to make a point he can't get to. "Soju is kinda like that. Takes a few bottles though, but it gets you drunk pretty quick. Not on the floor like vodka or tequila though, which is a shame." Not that he's tried or anything, Chris was a responsible adult. Totally.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 25, 2016 10:58 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"Can't imagine that'll be a problem for you, with all your smooth talking," Chris laughs, "I bet they are. I bet everyone who uses them has kept quiet, on the account of the fantastic alien vodka. Wonder if that's what stored at Area 51?"
He drags himself out of the car, spotting Thorne easily and eyeing the warehouse with some trepidation. "Some," He replies easily and truthfully. The past days hadn't given him much sleep, but it was enough to keep him going without looking too rough. "Did you call me out here to help you murder someone? Because, no offense, but I'm terrible at that kind of stuff."
elkbones oh wow this is still a thing
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 03, 2016 1:10 am
cupcake carouselsThorne laughs, and the sound is sultry and low. It is the sound of someone without sleep, someone tethered to the world by another person alone. His eyes are wild-bright focused only on Chris, the half-light of the apartment granted mostly by city lights beyond the open windows. He tilts his head and shifts slightly, brushing shoulders. Bumping feet.
"I'll hold you to it," he says, his voice sleep-roughed and soft, "I might even offer you a dramatic reading or two of those freshman papers. I can only imagine the horror you must go through on your own." He leans forward slightly, hair falling over his eyes. "Does that mean," he adds, mischievous, his tone addled with laughter, "you accept me as your partner in crime?"
He crosses his legs on the counter, wraps his hands around his ankles and sways left and right, left and right. It is a gentle press of shoulders every time he comes around. His heart is a soft thrumming in his chest, but it is Chris that grounds him in the present. His thoughts can be a dangerous thing when left on their own. Chris makes him quiet, and Thorne does not know why.
"Oh really?" Thorne drawls, dangerously low, a purr soft in his throat. "We'll have to have a round two then, one day. I'd like to see this smooth talker fall from grace. Maybe I'll find some redemption then." Thorne laughs then, a soft sound of the sleepless, nurtured by exhaustion and amusement in equal parts.
His swaying slows when Chris tells him that he's an expensive date, and he blinks at the other for a long moment, his eyes flicking to the blond with a searching sort of mirth.
"I would never," he responds, mock-hurt, and the laughter rolls deeper into his throat. He pauses, tilts his head at Chris. A slow gesture, animal in appearance. Thorne flicks his tongue over the corner of his mouth, tasting a response before speaking into the calm quiet between them.
"I'll keep that in mind," he responds slowly, raising a brow, "Whiskey or rum? Or are you a scotch drinker? God, I'll have to restock the bar." He picks at a wrapper, turns it into a clumsy swan. "Maybe next time we can put rum in the cupcakes. Wouldn't that be exciting." He closes his eyes and it is the relief of someone who's been holding them open for too long. But Chris speaks again and he draws himself towards the sound, helpless like a moth to a flame.
"Well, your wish is my command," he says, eyes flicking to Chris, "I can't promise I'll be unlike a cat though. You'll just have the added bonus of one who knows how to speak in tongues." At the mention of doing worse things, Thorne cannot help but scoff and laugh again, the grin on his face spreading.
"Aliens is a first. As for the rest... well, college was a wild ride." Thorne teases. "And we could. Is that a dare? Careful, teacher, or we'll have the grandads coming for us by tomorrow afternoon." He pauses, savoring the words. "Then we might just get too much credit."
He slows and stops as Chris leans against him. It is a warm, solid presence, and every buzzing noise inside of his chest and head quiets immediately. Solace finds him, unexpected. Thorne blinks and blinks again.
"Mmm," he responds softly, a low purr in the crevice of his throat, "It's a plan then. We can tag-team them. Maybe the aliens will help." He considers for a moment before tilting his head, brushing it against the crown of Chris's own. It feels comfortable and warm, but he does not let it fall enough that Chris cannot easily pull away.
"I knew what it felt like, that's why I could." Thorne closes his eyes. "But you're good for him. I'm just - " he clicks his tongue, hums a soft lullaby sound. "well, you know. This." Thorne shifts his head slightly, the edge of sleep exhaustion making him thoughtless. The line between allowed and unacceptable is blurred, broken, here in this instance.
He feels electric, like he is testing a boundary with someone.
"I like it," he hums softly. "Neutral beer. Soju though... never tried it. I'll buy you shots sometime, and you can buy me a bottle?" He rumbled again, a low deep purr. "The hard stuff we'll reserve for an absolutely terrible night. You know. Rainy day reserve? In the event that the papers your students give you put you on the floor first."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 03, 2016 1:16 am
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
Thorne laughs at the insinuation that he is actually a smooth talker, his voice liquid and warm. "Shall we break in and find out after we finish building crop circles?" he asks.
He waits with ease until Chris finds him, eyes roving the other over for signs of dangerous amounts of sleep deprivation before he strides for the blond and lets his thumbs hook in his belt loops. Finding none, the artist cocks his head and surveys the warehouse.
"That's far more effort than I'm willing to put in today," he drawls, "but if you have anyone in mind, let me know." He lets his hip sway to one side, arms crossing. "I bought it. New living space. The inside is nicer than the out, I promise."
He pauses, a low hum deep in his throat.
"Do you have any love for plants?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2016 9:28 pm
cupcake carousels
Chris hums lightly at the contact, the quick and quiet warmth provided by the brushes of skin he feels. Normally he'd feel unsettled, out of place - wearing clothing he isn't used to and in someone else's place that he barely knows - but instead it's calming. He likes it.
"A dramatic reading would be wonderful," Chris breathes and he means it sincerely. Wishes that he could get the students to actually hear their drivel said out loud, the ones that aren't trying to bullshit to just make a grade but actually believe that their purple prose is meaningful. He laughs a little, turns and gives Thorne a considering look. "I suppose I do. I assume you'll do good enough - won't turn on me when the interns come after you," Chris drawls, affectionate teasing.
Thorne grounds him in every slight brush of contact, a reminder that he's here, that he's in the present. It's strange, he thinks, that everything looks so normal. Feels so normal. By now, he knows, he'd be seeing things.
"Make me more cupcakes and my time is yours then," Chris laughs, gentle, soft. "They'll console me when I inevitably lose."
He smiles, enjoying the calm between them, the gentle teasing. "All of those are fine, really. I never developed a preference, beggars can't be choosers when you're a poor college kid you know," Chris says, watching him pick at the wrapper. "If you do that, I might actually just move in, so just be warned."
He shifts a little, stretching in his position. Rolling out his shoulders, starting to feel comfortable, warm. "Oh good, you'll be entertaining at least then. I can talk at you in korean and you can respond in something I don't know and it'll work," He smiles a bit crookedly, grin growing similarly to Thorne's. It had been awhile since he'd been able to even think about speaking korean in ashdown, it would be nice to have a change.
"You'll have to tell me all your college stories then," Chris says. "I could use a good laugh. I'm rather boring." He hums for a second, tapping his chin with his hand. "I suppose it might be, I would love to raise some hell for them. But maybe another night."
He hums against Thorne, feeling warm and happy and surprisingly, sleepy. Content. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he listened to Thorne, giving a happy little laugh at his plan.
"The aliens will definitely help," He says, savoring as Thorne's head drifts against him. He stays where is he though, letting them be. The contact is nice, grounding, makes him feel like he hasn't been awake for three days. Make him feel like he doesn't feel like death.
"You're good for him too, you know," He says, voice rough, honest. "You're someone like him but someone who- who made it. I can't ever relate to that. I can't ever show it." He finally blinks his eyes open, looking over at Thorne thoughtfully. "Don't ever think for a second you aren't."
"Consider it a deal," Chris replies, "Good plan all around, although don't count those papers out quite yet. They're terrible." He finally brings his phone up, looks at the time. Considers what he has to do tomorrow before finally he gently slides himself off the counter.
"I gotta go, but thanks for the cupcakes, and your time." He pauses, then opens his phone and in a few seconds, sends a text to Thorne. It's the address to his apartment, like promised. "Feel free to come over whenever, I'll let you in."
He steals one last cupcake and pads to the door, toeing his shoes on. He's out the door quietly and quick, but for once, feels like he might be able to sleep if he tries. It's a good feeling.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2016 9:29 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"Absolutely. Go hard or go home, you know?" He laughs, easily drawn into the warmth of Thorne's voice.
He gives Thorne his own lookover, deciding he looks fine before looking back at the warehouse. It looks particularly grim, but maybe it's just him.
"Oh I could name many names," Chris replies far too quickly, "Don't give me the option at all really." He stops midsentence though, gives Thorne a rather curious look that is mostly judgmental. "I would say you're crazy but I think we've crossed that line. I am judging you though."
Chris laughs, surprised, not expecting the question.
"God, yes. I have a garden behind my parent's house that I tend, too many plants in my apartment, and a cat that grows flowers when he purrs. I would be hard pressed to not love them."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2016 10:21 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
Thorne laughs in amusement and gives a shrug with both palms up, grinning at Chris. He is dressed in worn, clinging jeans and a faded white henley, his mouth quirked happily at the appearance of the blond.
"Have that many students slighted you with awful papers in the past month, or do you just have the capability of holding a grudge?" Thorne asked, his tone honeyed and warm. "Either way, I accept full blame and judgment. You are allowed to tell me how awful my taste in living spaces is. I have no excuse."
There is an edge of sly amusement fluttering in his tone. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pleased, and gestures for Chris to follow him. With ease, he takes the iron staircase that hugs the side of the building to the second floor and the imposing set of doors that he's been using to go in and out. There are plants out here, ones that grow better outside.
"That's good," he says to Chris as he jimmies open the door by hefting it up and wiggling it in a strange, complex, and mostly memorized way. It swings open and he sweeps inside.
The scent of fresh paint, new furniture, soil, and plants hits him in an instant, permeated by the freshness of something baked or baking. Millicent, the ragdoll cat he'd brought with him to Ashdown, lounges beneath one of the many slices of sunlight cutting into the warehouse space from the floor to ceiling panels inlaid between red brick and wood floor.
The space was enormous, all encompassing. A maw of fresh work. There was a small but veritable army of plants growing, however. Hanging, potted, growing, bathing in the sun. A multi-tier wooden shelf held a number of herbs seated next to the open kitchen. A trail of ivy and other hungry leaves extended over the catwalks along the edge of the warehouse space.
"Can you tell how I have my priorities listed?" Thorne remarks once Chris is inside with amusement. "Cat first, plants second, and a bed..." he gestures with his wrist and it pops softly. "A bed somewhere. Or something. I think that one's the bedroom? To be honest I'm still figuring it all out. New project."
He turns to Chris, eyes wild and bright.
"Also," he adds, "your cat sounds like a work of art. Though I'm not surprised, if it's your cat. Like calls to like, or something like that?"
There's something fond and warm in his tone. There's something there that grows like the plants in the warehouse. Slowly but surely, basking in Chris's own light.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:17 pm
a pair of boxcutters & a blond
"A little of both," Chris admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "Some papers are too bad to forget, even with the 'help' of vodka." He gives Thorne a wry smile, something questioning in it, "Quick for you to be accepting of blame. I feel like you're giving in too easily. What horrors are you hiding from me?"
He follows Thorne easily though, taking note of the plants as he follows him up and gently brushes his hands by them. His question is simple, more of a feeling than a true question, an inquiry of their nature. Gentle, prodding, but nothing too invasive. Simple curiosity, considering how well they look and their appropriate place outside.
"Why do you say that?" He raises an eyebrow at the door - although it's far too complicated for him to even began to imagine to memorize. He follows in easily regardless, taking care to make sure the light, flowy cardigan he threw over his sleeveless top didn't get caught on the stairs and thankful he wore boots for once.
Inside is well, the answer to his question.
His definition of too many plants in his apartment were a couple of herb jars on his kitchen windowsill and a pair of fern plants in his tiny bedroom. His office had the brunt of the plants, gifts from people and small projects he had grown on his own, since he couldn't fit them in his apartment and didn't want Bergamot to get any ideas. But here... his office seemed like almost nothing.
"You have them in the right order," Chris says, taking in everything with wide eyed wonder (and a small amount of jealousy - the amount of space he had) "Although I think you should have figured out the rooms first but I'll cut you some slack. Everything is... gorgeous."
Chris blinks in surprise and then laughs, bright and happy. "He was a gift from a friend, actually. His mom can do the same thing, as does his siblings. You know Jer and Alg?" He wanders a little by the plants, giving one his nearby attention with a similar question from before. "They have his siblings. Violetta and Hellbine."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
