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Post by Daniel “Lykaon” Myr on Jun 7, 2012 2:03:03 GMT -5
His reaction was instant and very, very fast. The pillow that remained in his hand buffed Trisha's little face with a fluffy fury. Luckily, he doubted the thing could actually hurt her so he didn't even have to pull his blow--damn that felt good. Smirking he skipped back a step to dodge an expected retaliatory blow as he replied, "Guests take the bed, I get the couch."
Pausing he looked over at the bed with a scrunched up expression, "Besides, I haven't been in the bed for a month--I can't imagine it being that dirty." Blinking owlishly he stared off into space. Truth be told Trisha was probably the first person he had ever brought back into the apartment. Every girl he had "connected" he always insisted on going to there place.
Every shallow relationship, every vague, watery hook-up; he always kept them at arm's length emotionally and it worked. Truly he saw no harm in the average hook-up--she laughed, he laughed; he smiled, she smiled; and they both ended the night happy. What more could be asked for? Lost in thought his eyes dropped to the floor, a small part of him wondering if he was missing out on something big and important in life, wondering if he was letting doors close and opportunities vanish. He just couldn't have that happening... |
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Post by Trisha Morello on Jun 10, 2012 22:08:11 GMT -5
When he hit her with the pillow, Trisha quickly swiped at his head once again. But he dodged the oncoming ball of fluff easily and Trisha had to stifle the chuckle that was tickling the back of her throat. She wasn't supposed to be enjoying herself. She wasn't supposed to laugh happily. She was supposed to be miserably, wallowing in her own misery. It was what she had come to know as ordinary for her - along with a bottle of jack for company. Jack never judged her though. He never looked down on her or snickered at her stumbling drunkenly throughout the streets. He just offered her another glass and kept quiet. But that was until he left. He always ended up leaving and Trisha was reminded of that when she would look down the empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. He had left her.
She followed his gaze to the bedroom and figured she wasn't going to convince him otherwise. When she looked back at him though, his eyes were cast down to the floor and she quirked a dark eyebrow at him. She wasn't going to ask if he was okay though - that might imply that she actually cared. Which she didn't. She could care less if he was happy or sad. Hell, he may have given her his apartment, but that didn't mean Trisha felt emotionally attached to him or even indebted to him. It was a favor that she never intended on repaying. So no. She didn't ask if he was okay.
She merely shrugged and hugged the pillow he had given her close to her body. She turned on her heel and waved dismissively at him.
"If I wake up with an STD, I'm suing," she told him half jokingly as she moved to his bed. She climbed on, making a note to herself that she needed to stop by her now retired apartment and pick up her pathetic amount of possessions - mostly clothes she'd picked up along the way. But she distantly wondered how often Daniel would be coming by his apartment. Would he pick up and leave the next morning or stick around? Did he intend to check up on things? Was she a permanent guest or the actual owner? But as she closed her eyes, she told herself that she didn't really care whether or not he was going to be here when she woke up .
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