Eager.
Whatever lines Eric was feeding him, however he was doing it...it worked.
Maybe he was just so desperate for validation and attention that he would have accepted compliments and praise from just about anyone, or maybe it was because he felt some sort of camaraderie with Eric, either because they worked for the same agency, because Eric had seen his outburst, or because Eric was going out of his way to do something nice for Virell...
Maybe it was any of those things, or all of them, or something else--but whatever it was, Virell felt the faintest flutter of hope in the pit of his stomach. Guilt, too; he felt bad that he hadn't dressed up. Bad that he hadn't been flirting. Bad that he hadn't done his hair, or put on makeup, or taken the effort to make himself look good.
...Usually that sort of thing made him feel good, but recently he just didn't have the energy. Maybe he'd wanted someone to see him at his lowest, to think as little of him as he thought of himself.
There were so many 'maybe's', and Virell couldn't keep up with any of them.
So, instead of maybe, he said, 'Yes'.
Orangeish Sherbert
