Puck didn't know a damn thing about interior decorating.
Like, at all. He'd come back to the hut one day and everything was different. Kurt had called it minimalism, and had said something about Asian-influences, but all Puck saw was a lot of bamboo and green. Everything was neat and put away, and the place actually looked bigger somehow, and he
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Seating himself primly on a nearby log, fallen on its side, Kurt crossed his legs and let one foot bounce in the air, prepared to leave if Puck wanted for him to. But equally prepared to stay. "Anyway, I know how high-maintenance I can be," he added with a grin. "Just let me know when it's too much, and I'll find someone else to pester about a makeover."
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"I'm cool with the hut needing work, but there's like, a science to looking this good," he added, motioning down to himself, and he was sweat stained from the walk out there, but that had always been part of the look. Ladies loved that kind of crap.
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But if New York was already a prospect so distant to the both of them, how else were they supposed to feel on Tabula Rasa but overwhelmed?
"And, if you really intend on moving forward with that speed-dating gig, you should probably find yourself a little more than a wifebeater." He paused. "Maybe trim the hair a bit, too."
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Still, one thing wasn't sitting right... "What's wrong with Axe, dude?" he said with a confused frown.
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After a pause, he looked up again, eyes narrowed in consideration. "We'll find you something better."
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