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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[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.

Nick advances, hands out to show he's disarmed--the Hotel didn't let him keep any weapons anyway--checking the reaction. If the young man bolted and ran, well, it'd be a loss, but it was better to know now. At least that was what he tried to tell his desperately straining particulars.

"Normally I'm a wine-and-dine, slow-and-easy kind of guy, but you make me want to skip right to the best part."

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 been absolutely floored by the notion that anybody would find him attractive.

Especially (and men in general, too, but) someone who looked like Nick. Which was to say, someone who looked damn good, even beat all to Zombie hell.

Maybe... especially when beat all to Zombie hell (oh boy, that's a bit weird, give him a complex, why don't you.) Regardless, he glances pointedly to the side, directly at what is a conveniently located empty room with the door ajar and then back towards Nick out of the corner of his eyes. "Well fuck, then lets skip it."

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?"