When the door opens, Peeta -- blonde hair going every which way, expression haggard, and only half dressed, with sheet-creased skin -- is already three or four steps inside before he realizes where he is
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There's a look over toward the woman addressing him, as he's reaching for the shirt a little more hastily even. "Aside from not expecting Milliways to take over my bathroom, yes."
"Ah. At least my door doesn't move around on me, true enough."
Instead of walking a little closer to the boy, Sallie steps behind the bar and starts to get her things together for manning this particular station for a bit.
Longer than an hour or two's sleep, where all the rest accrued wasn't eradicated by horrific, panic inducing dreams, that were still more memory than nightmare?
Peeta's brow furrowed, arms and head finally free again, so that he could see her moving stuff around on the other side of the Bar. "What are you doing?"
And while Peeta is pulling his boots on, Scorpius is taking his own off after stomping his way inside.
(He finally made it to the outside area after the seagull incident and probably spent more time in the snow than he should have. He's freezing now.)
He happens to glance up -
And takes one look at the well-built (shirtless!) bloke, looks down his red-from-the-cold Malfoy nose at his scrawny (though Quidditch-toned, even if he might not recognize it) self, and scowls.
Peeta is doing his best to actually get to covered.
Public, even Milliways, is not somewhere he wants to be undressed. Especially after there being wonderful footage of him half-naked and dying circulating enough in his world as it is. He'd like to be dressed for the rest of his public life.
Especially certain parts of him.
It takes another minute, before he's trying to flatten his hair, shirt tails left untucked, when he finally looks about the people there. Wonderful, people who don't seem to care at all. It's almost anti-climactic, that.
His frazzled race to dress certainly goes unnoticed by Scorpius who is far too busy debating on whether or not he should strip.
His winter robes are certainly damp from the snow and he shouldn't be sitting in them. He's just feeling slightly more self-conscious than he was when he stepped into the bar-proper.
Gangly and awkward. That's how Scorpius thinks of himself.
He sniffles from the cold and turns to the counter, still fully dressed.
Peeta was managing his boots first. He didn't really give a damn about whether it was vanity or shame that was driving the need. He'd get to his shirt in a second. At least his upper body was all still his.
And the whole damn need for a bar to take over his bathroom.
Especially right after the newest escapade of Katniss dying in his head.
He'd finally sat back up, enough to reach out and snatch the shirt off the bar, when he spotted Gale. His entire face reads the apparent pleasure of that. Katniss dead. Half-naked in the Bar in his Bathroom. And now Gale. Great.
He's totally yanking his shirt on before he has to manage words. Even if he does look back at Gale having done so.
Peeta's usually has the common decency to look wavy and nice.
(Well, except when Portia and his team attack it. Then it does anything and everything. Even hopelessly impossible tricks. But with that much tech and money it surprises no one.)
"I wonder if this is the hint to be dressed whenever I use the bathroom now."
As often as Rachel finds herself in the bar, that sudden stumble of people through doors she usually can't see hasn't quite faded into the background yet. Her eyes are still drawn to every movement in that direction, a quick scan of the face, then back to what she was doing. It's smart, for one. And she's curious, for another.
And sometimes she actually knows someone.
Peeta's entrance is also noticeable because he doesn't stumble. So by the time Rachel's recognized his face, she's also seen him realize where he is. She takes in his outfit while he gets annoyed and goes growling at Bar and smirks a bit.
Then he's putting his boots on, some standard, ugly, sturdy style of...
Rachel's smirk snaps off her face and she watches, cool and calm while he covers himself.
It doesn't take that long to master his boots, and tugging the shirt on over his head is more annoyance than drastic need, the way his movements had been with the boots when he was starting.
He's still on the stool itself, when he looks up across the people. No one watching here the way everyone at home, or on the television sets does. Anti-climatic. Creepy. Wishes he could be grateful.
The panic of the dream and rush of Adrenalin to be dresses screws that.
At least he missed the one person who is staring at him.
Granted, she's not trying too hard in the style department today. Rachel might have the natural talent of looking like a model fresh out of a photoshoot in everything she wears... but sweatpants are still sweatpants, especially when coupled with a fleece zip jacket.
The more days spent in Milliways, the more time she has to devote to activity or she'll go completely bonkers. Morning stretches went on longer, gymnastic routine extended, run went a little further. She's only just now relaxing.
And maybe the tired is why she still hasn't looked away from him, toying with the straw in her large glass of ice water.
He found her eventually. Uncanny, watching him, quietly. It'd be impossible to not have been noticed spotting her, so Peeta nods without making a fake smile for her.
Comments 153
Sallie steps out of the staff wing, and it's rather hard to miss the shirtless boy pulling on some shoes.
"Hello. You alright?"
Reply
At least his upper body was all still his.
There's a look over toward the woman addressing him, as he's reaching for the shirt a little more hastily even. "Aside from not expecting Milliways to take over my bathroom, yes."
Reply
Instead of walking a little closer to the boy, Sallie steps behind the bar and starts to get her things together for manning this particular station for a bit.
"Needin' anything 'sides clothes?"
Reply
Peeta's brow furrowed, arms and head finally free again, so that he could see her moving stuff around on the other side of the Bar. "What are you doing?"
Reply
(He finally made it to the outside area after the seagull incident and probably spent more time in the snow than he should have. He's freezing now.)
He happens to glance up -
And takes one look at the well-built (shirtless!) bloke, looks down his red-from-the-cold Malfoy nose at his scrawny (though Quidditch-toned, even if he might not recognize it) self, and scowls.
Reply
Public, even Milliways, is not somewhere he wants to be undressed. Especially after there being wonderful footage of him half-naked and dying circulating enough in his world as it is. He'd like to be dressed for the rest of his public life.
Especially certain parts of him.
It takes another minute, before he's trying to flatten his hair, shirt tails left untucked, when he finally looks about the people there. Wonderful, people who don't seem to care at all. It's almost anti-climactic, that.
Reply
His winter robes are certainly damp from the snow and he shouldn't be sitting in them. He's just feeling slightly more self-conscious than he was when he stepped into the bar-proper.
Gangly and awkward. That's how Scorpius thinks of himself.
He sniffles from the cold and turns to the counter, still fully dressed.
"Could I please have a warm Butterbeer, Bar?"
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It's a combination of the robes and the specific drink.
Curios, without trying to be invasive,
"You wouldn't happen to be from Hogwarts?"
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Only, he's fully dressed.
He (also) has just left the mines for home.
It's kind of been a long day.
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And the whole damn need for a bar to take over his bathroom.
Especially right after the newest escapade of Katniss dying in his head.
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This place again.
But at least he ... kindasortamostly believes what he sees, and that it's generally okay to be here.
He's not insane.
(Well, he's not insane if Katniss isn't.)
Still, some warning would have been nice.
He makes his way to the bar, notes the familiar blond, and aaaalmost turns back.
Almost.
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He's totally yanking his shirt on before he has to manage words.
Even if he does look back at Gale having done so.
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"Bad night?"
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Though those better nights are probably all at least two months old.
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Bed-hair can be attractive, Moist's is controlled within an inch of its life.
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(Well, except when Portia and his team attack it. Then it does anything and everything. Even hopelessly impossible tricks. But with that much tech and money it surprises no one.)
"I wonder if this is the hint to be dressed whenever I use the bathroom now."
Reply
And sometimes she actually knows someone.
Peeta's entrance is also noticeable because he doesn't stumble. So by the time Rachel's recognized his face, she's also seen him realize where he is. She takes in his outfit while he gets annoyed and goes growling at Bar and smirks a bit.
Then he's putting his boots on, some standard, ugly, sturdy style of...
Rachel's smirk snaps off her face and she watches, cool and calm while he covers himself.
Reply
He's still on the stool itself, when he looks up across the people. No one watching here the way everyone at home, or on the television sets does. Anti-climatic. Creepy. Wishes he could be grateful.
The panic of the dream and rush of Adrenalin to be dresses screws that.
Reply
Granted, she's not trying too hard in the style department today. Rachel might have the natural talent of looking like a model fresh out of a photoshoot in everything she wears... but sweatpants are still sweatpants, especially when coupled with a fleece zip jacket.
The more days spent in Milliways, the more time she has to devote to activity or she'll go completely bonkers. Morning stretches went on longer, gymnastic routine extended, run went a little further. She's only just now relaxing.
And maybe the tired is why she still hasn't looked away from him, toying with the straw in her large glass of ice water.
Reply
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