can't put your arms around a memorydiscessumJune 10 2009, 19:35:22 UTC
It takes several minutes for him to answer the door. There's commentary to respond to before he puts it on hold and logs off. The apartment is eerily silent while he moves, surprisingly quiet despite his hungover state, and with enough sense to at least try and straighten up.
Books are everywhere, but that's nothing new. The notes scattered about, though, are closed and set aside.
Finally, the locks come undone. The chain, the deadbolt, and finally the knob. Wesley opens it a crack, and he really doesn't look any better than one might expect from a drunket hermit at this point. He surveys Jamie for a moment before blinking and shaking his head, as if coming out of a daze.
Opening the door further, he waves his hand towards the living area.
can't put your arms around a memorydiscessumJune 10 2009, 19:44:36 UTC
There's a visible wince at Jamie's volume, but he makes no comment. Considering he's avoided work for a few days without even calling in, he figures a raging headache is getting off easy in terms of discipline.
The comment about cat hair draws a quizzical look, however, as he slowly shuts and locks the door. "Cat hair? Do tell." He's very aware that there was a curse yesterday, even if he didn't check out the network, and he can only imagine what on earth Jamie was cursed with.
In passing, he accepts only one of the bottles while murmuring out a thank you and moving some books so make space on the couch. Even in this state he's polite enough to exercise some restraint.
[1/2] can't put your arms around a memorydiscessumJune 10 2009, 19:56:06 UTC
He does, and he looks grateful as he catches the bottle and reads the label. "Thanks." Not that mixing pills and liquor is always the best option, but what's it going to do to him, exactly? Kill him? That ship has sailed.
"Cats in a fairy tale? That could be a number of things, but the most prominent one that comes to mind is Puss in Boots." Which...actually almost makes him crack a smile while he sits down in the recliner. "Good Lord," he mutters under his breath, uttering a light chuckle at the mental image before he pops a few of the pain killers into his mouth.
can't put your arms around a memorydiscessumJune 10 2009, 19:59:04 UTC
The very idea of 'talking' in the manner that Jamie's implying just makes him shake his head reluctantly, setting the ibuprofen on the coffee table before leaning back. For now the bottle remains closed as he offers the man a glance.
"There's really nothing to talk about. I've just been a little off my game." It's a lie, but he's good at those. Better than drawing Jamie into a situation he'd really be better off steering clear of. With knowledge comes responsibility, and Jamie had enough of that.
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Sorry.
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But I'll admit, I'm running dry.
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Books are everywhere, but that's nothing new. The notes scattered about, though, are closed and set aside.
Finally, the locks come undone. The chain, the deadbolt, and finally the knob. Wesley opens it a crack, and he really doesn't look any better than one might expect from a drunket hermit at this point. He surveys Jamie for a moment before blinking and shaking his head, as if coming out of a daze.
Opening the door further, he waves his hand towards the living area.
"Make yourself at home."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
The comment about cat hair draws a quizzical look, however, as he slowly shuts and locks the door. "Cat hair? Do tell." He's very aware that there was a curse yesterday, even if he didn't check out the network, and he can only imagine what on earth Jamie was cursed with.
In passing, he accepts only one of the bottles while murmuring out a thank you and moving some books so make space on the couch. Even in this state he's polite enough to exercise some restraint.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"Cats in a fairy tale? That could be a number of things, but the most prominent one that comes to mind is Puss in Boots." Which...actually almost makes him crack a smile while he sits down in the recliner. "Good Lord," he mutters under his breath, uttering a light chuckle at the mental image before he pops a few of the pain killers into his mouth.
Reply
"There's really nothing to talk about. I've just been a little off my game." It's a lie, but he's good at those. Better than drawing Jamie into a situation he'd really be better off steering clear of. With knowledge comes responsibility, and Jamie had enough of that.
"Besides, I believe you owe me an answer."
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