[ Peter looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, really. His eyes dart from person to person and he shies away from anyone who gets within a foot of him.
That's how he finds himself actually bumping into Drake with a bony shoulder. Oops. ]
S-sorry. [ His voice is hushed, just barely above a whisper and he looks rather horrified. Go figure. ]
Too many people. [ It's a quiet mumble this time. The music and scents are getting to him as well. It's another few beats before his eyes actually focus on Drake. ]
You're different. [ Said as he fumbles for a cigarette from his coat pocket. Can they smoke here? Peter doesn't look concerned about that. Once he finds the crunched up pack, he offers one to Drake. He'll take one for himself after the other man accepts or declines his offer. He squints at him after he realizes how that must have sounded. ]
... Different from some of the other people here, I mean.
[He tilts his head, watching Peter lazily. He notices the contrast between the two of them already -- while he was relaxed, Peter seemed nervous, fidgety. He purposefully makes the other wait as he decides whether or not to take the cigarette, dragging out the moments as long as possible before finally accepting it.]
How do you mean?
[He's already pulling out a small, golden lighter from his pocket, arching an eyebrow at Peter as he does so, silently asking him if he'd like him to light his as well.]
[ Peter's brows furrow as he waits for Drake to accept the cigarette. There's a brief moment where he considers his actions may have been impolite and a small wave of anxiety settles in his stomach. That is, until Drake takes the offered narcotic. He tugs out one for himself and places it between his lips as he tucks away the rest of the pack. ]
You feel different. Is that rude of me to say? [ His tone is genuinely curious as he speaks around the cigarette and nods towards the lighter. It's obvious he isn't used to stepping on anyone's toes, but since he was vaguely aware of someone lifting his lighter, he's in a position where he has to accept the offer. ] Yes, please. If it isn't too much trouble.
[Cigarettes, what a horrible hobby of him to have. The boy seemed so young, too. After taking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it for himself, he holds the lighter to Peter's, lighting it for him. As soon as he does so, his eyes narrow, as if he'd done something wrong, before he tucks the lighter away once more.]
[ Taking a deep drag from his freshly lit cigarette, Peter looks comfortable for the first time since he's been in the strange lounge. He exhales slowly, almost savoring the smoke and taste. Comfort blankets be damned. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he purses them in thought, watching Drake now. ]
You seem to be one of the very few people who's noticed there's anything strange about this place at all.
And you seem to be one of the few who realizes that.
[He tilts his head, taking the cigarette from his lips after a drag to almost mirror Peter's actions. Drake allows the smoke to slowly escape his lips as he speaks, his words coming out in a soft drawl.]
[ It's a simple response punctuated with a small, curious smile. With the way he says it, it's almost as if he expects it to be a completely sufficient answer. He rolls the cigarette gently between his fingers, gaze still resting intently on Drake. ]
[ Peter nods and shrugs. He can't help but wonder if normal people would have offered a handshake with the introduction. It's a fleeting thought, though. Peter doesn't like touching people anyhow. ]
New Orleans. I was raised in Vancouver. [ Sort of. It isn't a lie, though. Peter is physically unable to lie. The accent perks his interest. ] Where are you from?
[If anything, Drake has spent most of his time learning how to plan conversations, predicting answers based on the type of person someone was. Peter wasn't focused on himself, at least when it came to being polite, so he figured that he would end up asking about himself, too. A bit of a shame that Drake doesn't talk about himself. At all.]
[ The lack of response is something Peter notices immediately. It confirms his suspicions, at least. Drake is different. He brings his cigarette to his lips and takes another slow drag. ]
That's how he finds himself actually bumping into Drake with a bony shoulder. Oops. ]
S-sorry. [ His voice is hushed, just barely above a whisper and he looks rather horrified. Go figure. ]
Reply
It's no problem at all. Are you alright?
Reply
You're different. [ Said as he fumbles for a cigarette from his coat pocket. Can they smoke here? Peter doesn't look concerned about that. Once he finds the crunched up pack, he offers one to Drake. He'll take one for himself after the other man accepts or declines his offer. He squints at him after he realizes how that must have sounded. ]
... Different from some of the other people here, I mean.
Reply
How do you mean?
[He's already pulling out a small, golden lighter from his pocket, arching an eyebrow at Peter as he does so, silently asking him if he'd like him to light his as well.]
Reply
You feel different. Is that rude of me to say? [ His tone is genuinely curious as he speaks around the cigarette and nods towards the lighter. It's obvious he isn't used to stepping on anyone's toes, but since he was vaguely aware of someone lifting his lighter, he's in a position where he has to accept the offer. ] Yes, please. If it isn't too much trouble.
Reply
[Cigarettes, what a horrible hobby of him to have. The boy seemed so young, too. After taking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it for himself, he holds the lighter to Peter's, lighting it for him. As soon as he does so, his eyes narrow, as if he'd done something wrong, before he tucks the lighter away once more.]
What makes me 'feel' different?
Reply
[ Taking a deep drag from his freshly lit cigarette, Peter looks comfortable for the first time since he's been in the strange lounge. He exhales slowly, almost savoring the smoke and taste. Comfort blankets be damned. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he purses them in thought, watching Drake now. ]
You seem to be one of the very few people who's noticed there's anything strange about this place at all.
Reply
[He tilts his head, taking the cigarette from his lips after a drag to almost mirror Peter's actions. Drake allows the smoke to slowly escape his lips as he speaks, his words coming out in a soft drawl.]
Tell me about yourself, why don't you?
Reply
[ It's a simple response punctuated with a small, curious smile. With the way he says it, it's almost as if he expects it to be a completely sufficient answer. He rolls the cigarette gently between his fingers, gaze still resting intently on Drake. ]
What's your name?
Reply
[He leaves his cigarette untouched, not even bothering to look at it.]
But I wasn't asking about your name. Where are you from?
[There's a hint of an accent in his voice at the last bit, but it would take an expert to pinpoint exactly what it was.]
Reply
New Orleans. I was raised in Vancouver. [ Sort of. It isn't a lie, though. Peter is physically unable to lie. The accent perks his interest. ] Where are you from?
Reply
[If anything, Drake has spent most of his time learning how to plan conversations, predicting answers based on the type of person someone was. Peter wasn't focused on himself, at least when it came to being polite, so he figured that he would end up asking about himself, too. A bit of a shame that Drake doesn't talk about himself. At all.]
Reply
That isn't mine to tell.
Reply
[He doesn't at all seem phased by Peter's own avoidance over personal things, and he can't help a tiny smile.]
Reply
[ With a shift of slight weight from one foot to the other, Peter folds his arms across his chest, careful not to disturb his cigarette. ]
Does it bother you?
Reply
[The mere question surprises him. A person was still a person, no matter if they were adopted or not.]
Reply
Leave a comment