MCA #3, Sunday Evening

[hatesmoststuff]

Well. Yesterday and all that it had entailed -- specifically, making out with a bleached-blond musician who thought he was smooth -- had been a little bizarre. Or at least it was now, in the light of day and all that.

Fortunately, April at least planned on being way more mature and less weird today. Namely, by watching a horror movie marathon with a

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[suitablyheroic]

Atton was feeling a lot better than that morning. And, okay, he'd kind of hoped that the first time he saw April's apartment wouldn't have been after several failed attempts to flirt with her, but whatever, after the morning he'd had, he'd take free food and stupid vids.

He was easy like that.

He gave a knock on the door.

[hatesmoststuff]

Poor, poor Atton. So unlucky in love.

"It's open," April called.

What, like she was going to get up to go answer it? That would involve giving up the best couch, which she'd so wisely claimed by sprawling on it. And that would be terrible.

[suitablyheroic]

Pfft, who said anything about love? He just wanted to get laid.

Eventually he'd figure out Baltimore's one-night-stand scene. Just you wait.

Atton eyed the door for a few seconds, then shrugged and opened it. "As hospitable as ever," he said conversationally, shutting the door. "Hey, April."

[hatesmoststuff]

And every bartender in Caritas would be so, so sad to not be the only objects of his affections anymore. Really.

"Yo," April said, tossing a beer his way when he got close enough that she figured he might be able to catch it. And if he didn't, well, that would still be entertaining. "Welcome to my crappy apartment. As far as I know the mess isn't sentient yet."

But it was impressive. April didn't so much believe in concepts like 'cleaning up.'