[ All Mishka's response gets is a mild scoff of dismissal, as if he doesn't really believe that- and he doesn't, truly. 'Mishka' and 'Well-behaved' are subjective depending on the situation, and in this one, he's not too sure whether it fits. Regardless, he'll let him do his thing- at the very least, the meagre luxuries of comfort should be enough of a distraction.
Much unlike himself, who prefers to keep his thoughts clear and goals set, Adelis finds his mind swirling as he absentmindedly shifts through the dark to his side of the bedroom, pulling open the bedside table drawer to rummage through it. He does have a moment where he stares at the interior for a moment, feeling his brows knit as the reality of whatever the fuck this is starts to sink in.
It's not something he'd ever expect the elder to offer him, truly. Mishka had always been himself, playful with that unreadable smile, but Adelis knew what a goal-oriented person he could be- it's where he picked it up from, after all.
He's not a feral, desperate teenager anymore. Whatever he had when he was younger, he simply chalked up to typical adolescent behavior, the burgeoning feelings just a result of someone showing an interest in him in some way, after years of scraping by by himself. The minor desire for praise and recognition going hand in hand with the sense of satisfaction the knife and coin in his hand brought him.
...Right, is what he thinks as he takes a small bottle out and tucks it in his pocket, this is just what he's been taught. Taking advantage of opportunities offered for your own benefit. Isn't that technically what this is? All it is, even.
It wouldn't be the first person he's slept with for the purpose of the end result. It just so happens this is with someone he knows far more intimately.
The bedroom door closes with a soft click, and the cabinet swings open with nary a creak on it's well-oiled hinges. When he finally steps in to stare at Mishka nearly melted into his couch, he raises an eyebrow before tapping two glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. His own, of course- Ryuki can keep his alcohol stash. He seems like he needs it. ]
Getting comfortable, aren't you.
[ He keeps his tongue sharp, to bring some sense of normalcy. If Mishka so desires, he can pour himself a glass if he wants it now, as the younger turns back to fiddle with the TV. He's not too happy about it, but he at least seems to somewhat know what he's doing, screen flickering to life and glowing a soft blue.
When he turns back, it's with a few cases in hand- most of them in varying shades of ominous red with mildly threatening titles. ]
Do you need to offer an opinion, or shall I just put in whichever seems less irritating?
no subject
Much unlike himself, who prefers to keep his thoughts clear and goals set, Adelis finds his mind swirling as he absentmindedly shifts through the dark to his side of the bedroom, pulling open the bedside table drawer to rummage through it. He does have a moment where he stares at the interior for a moment, feeling his brows knit as the reality of whatever the fuck this is starts to sink in.
It's not something he'd ever expect the elder to offer him, truly. Mishka had always been himself, playful with that unreadable smile, but Adelis knew what a goal-oriented person he could be- it's where he picked it up from, after all.
He's not a feral, desperate teenager anymore. Whatever he had when he was younger, he simply chalked up to typical adolescent behavior, the burgeoning feelings just a result of someone showing an interest in him in some way, after years of scraping by by himself. The minor desire for praise and recognition going hand in hand with the sense of satisfaction the knife and coin in his hand brought him.
...Right, is what he thinks as he takes a small bottle out and tucks it in his pocket, this is just what he's been taught. Taking advantage of opportunities offered for your own benefit. Isn't that technically what this is? All it is, even.
It wouldn't be the first person he's slept with for the purpose of the end result. It just so happens this is with someone he knows far more intimately.
The bedroom door closes with a soft click, and the cabinet swings open with nary a creak on it's well-oiled hinges. When he finally steps in to stare at Mishka nearly melted into his couch, he raises an eyebrow before tapping two glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. His own, of course- Ryuki can keep his alcohol stash. He seems like he needs it. ]
Getting comfortable, aren't you.
[ He keeps his tongue sharp, to bring some sense of normalcy. If Mishka so desires, he can pour himself a glass if he wants it now, as the younger turns back to fiddle with the TV. He's not too happy about it, but he at least seems to somewhat know what he's doing, screen flickering to life and glowing a soft blue.
When he turns back, it's with a few cases in hand- most of them in varying shades of ominous red with mildly threatening titles. ]
Do you need to offer an opinion, or shall I just put in whichever seems less irritating?
[ Yeah, they're...all horror movies. ]