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Ever made a faint sound as Zac started to move away, not quite protesting -- because, at the moment, food probably trumped everything else. Alas. So he just huffed out a breath and let Zac go, swiping at the unruly wreck of his hair.

Disappointment faded quickly to something else, though, at the phrase 'steamed buns'. He'd managed to smother it, just barely, last time. This time it finally came bubbling up out of him, loud enough that the neighbors were going to hear -- and deep enough that they'd damned well know Zac didn't have a girl in there. Ever tried to smother it behind his hand, but. Well. Too perfect, really.

At least it meant Zac could make all the decisions himself.

Ever recovered once he'd left, drawing in a few deep breaths and sitting up slowly. Painfully. That hadn't helped with the ache or the bruising, Zac might be gratified to know.

He could only sit there for a couple minutes before he got restless, uncomfortable, and got up to start poking around. He nudged at Zac's books, deciding that none of them really captured his attention at the moment, and then stepped in to prod at the laptop. Password protected. Annoying. A drawer full of boxers left him amused, with at least one mystery solved; a drawer full of pens captured his attention for about ten seconds; the one below it, though....

Well. Ever never got to Zac's notebooks, at least. Instead, when Zac came back into the dorm, he'd find his definitely-not-girlfriend leaning in the bathroom doorway and working to get ink out of his pants and off his chest, chatting with whoever had come out to investigate the cursing when Zac's trap had gone off. Ever didn't seem offended or annoyed, but he was definitely marked as having been snooping...

The stomping caught Ever's attention and made him blink -- and then more than blink, gone puzzled and worried as the door slammed, his attention turned back onto what seemed like a fairly hilarious if somewhat self-centered teenager in front of him. He, at least, didn't see the harm, and tried to put the pieces together. Kept coming up a few short.

Finally, huffing out a sigh, he stepped back into the bathroom to grab a great handful of cheap paper towels and go after Zac, waving one last time. Woefully ignorant as to just how much cannon fodder it could give to the other boys on Zac's hall. He didn't really see it that way.

When he cracked the door, it was hesitant, like he expected a baseball bat to the head when he crept through.

"...um. I think a pen or something exploded." He offered a grin, hopeful, both eyebrows raised. He had, at least, tossed some blank sheets of paper down to soak up the worst of it. If he hadn't been distracted on the way back...well, Ever tried to make up for it now by offering over half the paper towels in his hands. He still needed the other half for the front of his pants...

A floundering moment, and then he sat on the white bed instead of the made one, blotting at his thighs and shaking his head a little. Hopefully the worst of it would come out. "Guess I have to do laundry anyway, I can do your blanket too."

Ever blinked at him, obviously surprised by the edge of frustration behind that, and flicked a look back toward the door. Then to the food. And he absolutely didn't budge just yet, instead sat patting at his clothing. Apparently ruined. Curiosity killed the cat, and Ever had been bubbling over with it.

"...thought what anyway?" It was a careful sort of question, and asked without looking up with Zac. If the younger man took a moment to think, he might sense the trap lurking underneath it. Ever could play that game too, perhaps; offended, frustrated, angry. It hinged on the answer.

"I care." Apparently Zac hadn't stepped in it quite so badly as he could have; Ever relaxed again, slowly, tossing his crumpled paper towels toward the waste basket and missing by about two feet. He wasn't athletic. "When it matters."

He still hadn't gone all grins and easy comfort, though, and wasn't sprawling out in that careless way. It took a moment's digging to come up with a suitably dismissive answer, something that might take the edge off, and could potentially get Zac brighter again. "Anyway, tell them I'm not your boyfriend, we're just ********. That should make their jaws drop."

Ever waved off the apology, well aware that he shouldn't have been poking through the things of someone as private as Zac. He didn't need the apology. Of course, he also didn't offer one of his own, instead letting it dance off of him and away. It could drop between them, if Zac would let it.

The other bit, though, he thought about, pushing himself up to stand and check out the food. He was hungry, even with the moment's tension lurking so close by, so he fished around for the aforementioned soggy buns and started in on one as he considered his answer.

"...okay. They're troublemakers, right?" A shrug, his mouth full, and Ever's eyes flicked up onto Zac. "So if you say things like 'boyfriend', they'll laugh themselves silly. But if you tell them you're ******** a convict, that might make them pause."

And then he paused. "...not that I'm a convict. But they don't know that..."

He went for tea, too, this time settling on Zac's bed. He'd probably forgotten about the ink -- or perhaps he thought that it was settled enough, now, that it wouldn't spill. Ever was either right or he lucked out or he perched just right as he settled his tea on his knee and held the other one out toward Zac.

"Don't look at me like that when I have a good idea. It's not that rare of a circumstance." Ever shook his head, huffing out a breath and rolling his shoulder in a testing sort of way. "...anyway, they might well believe you. I mean, I look like I've been in a fight. Probably because I was."