INTRO || NO EVENT || HEAVY APHRO

[shittyattitude]

"I wish somebody would tell me what in the fuck is going on here." The man in the ragged, bloodstained white suit stopped to lean against a wall, adjusting his open collar. Underneath, scratches and bruises abounded, and he looked the sort who'd been through the wringer, as a stray animal, with a curious sort of detachment

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[nerdofsteel]

Wesley, not much farther down the hall, is for once less banged up (sporting only the mostly-healed remains of a split bottom lip and a fading bruise above his left eye) and giving Nick a studious once-over. How the man got into to such a state of 'ragged and bloodstained' is a point of curiosity - threat assessment, really - but he figures he'd be unlikely to get a straight answer if he just comes out and asked.

Explanation time, then. "You're in a magical trap shithole." Granted, not a very good explanation, but can beggars really be choosers?

And it doesn't take much scrutiny to see what, uh, magical effects the place has already had on this stranger's pants, either.

"Survivors of what?"

[shittyattitude]

"Oh, that clears it up. Magic. If there are zombie wizards, I'm gonna be really mad."

Nick took a time out mentally from bitching to evaluate the other man in turn. Little roughed up, but nothing as wild as he'd expect for someone still vertical three weeks after hell broke loose. Pretty attractive, too.

Whoa, he didn't just. No.

"Survivors of the goddamn apocalypse. You are one, don't worry, you look good. Must be a crack shot."

He did, however, catch the other man looking, and flashed an instinctive inviting grin. "See something you like?"

[nerdofsteel]

Wesley takes a moment to ponder the wide array of crazy shit he has witnessed in this place. Zombie wizards? "There probably are, somewhere."

Huh. Apocalypse. Zombie apocalypse, judging by his earlier comment? It would explain the biting. ..... Cool. Wesley can play along with that. He grins a bit despite himself - crack shot isn't the half of it. "Sure - I'm the best."

And- whoa, nelly. More experienced with the wily ways of the hotel regardless, even a decade in this place wouldn't make Wesley immune to the airborne aphrodisiacs. The look he's suddenly getting certainly doesn't help, not when it's plastered over a face like Nick's. He licks his sore bottom lip, rather more uncomfortable in his worn jeans now than he was a couple minutes ago, and halfway torn between wanting to bolt over protestations of his heterosexuality goddamnit and absolutely not caring anymore. He's been around, awhile. "Yeah, I might."

[shittyattitude]

"Well fuck them," Nick said eloquently, "I pity the rotting titbitch who puts on his robe and wizard hat while I'm around." Confidence was key. When sad, make jokes. When angry, smile helplessly. When terrified, bluff like the baddest motherfucker ever.

"Maybe I'd like to see that sometime," He purrs--oh god there's something wrong here, is he flirting?--yes, maybe he's flirting. He's been through hell and back, he's sore and tired and really, really hard, and he's been three weeks without an opportunity to sleep eight hours, let alone use a bed for any other purpose. And this guy - whatever his name is, doesn't matter - he's clean and handsome and, from the look of his package, equally interested

oh man i am so late but you forgive me, right? right??

[nerdofsteel]

Wesley laughed, a quick and surprised breathy chuckle; he can appreciate a good wizard's hat and robe joke. After all, he'd become accustomed to being the only person with an actual functioning sense of humor in what seemed like a 2 mile radius, over the past couple months (sssassins tend to think they're pretty brilliant, but crack a joke and they all stand around and boggle about it like they don't understand the concept.) Of course, his own coping mechanisms are a hair more normal - when angry, swear and be sarcastic, when scared scream like a little girl. Good thing he defaults to angry, these days.

Anyway, bolting is about the last thing on Wesley's mind. Granted, there isn't much on his mind right about now, but that's a minor detail. He takes a half-second to lick his lips in subconscious response to the flirtation, and finds them curling upwards of their own volition into a slow grin. He'd gotten (relatively) accustomed to the mindfucking effects of the Hotel's aphrodisiacs, but it wasn't too terribly long ago that he'd have

Always bb ;; always.

[shittyattitude]

Oh yeah. Nick liked that smile. He liked it a lot. He followed Wesley's gaze to the room, and then grinned, starting in--taking off his suit jacket himself, to reveal the blue shirt's ragged and ripped in plenty of places, displaying a fairly muscled back.

"Good man," He said, setting the jacket down on a chair inside ($3000, that suit cost, okay), "C'mere and help me get these off, huh?"