The scoff that this elicits does contain sincere amusement, but just as much incredulity.
"Hightown," Barrow repeats, shifting his weight unconsciously as a cat leaps from the windowsill to his shoulders, "your opinion of me's higher than I thought."
"There's plenty of them get bored, start taking in strays," He finally huffs up to his elbows, displacing the armpit wriggler. Lazar spins a finger: "Wrap 'em up in sweaters. Hell, you could have hot milk, twice a day -"
"We can move people through eluvians," he muses, "maybe, if we combine all the eluvians, we could move our base to... I don't know. The Hissing Wastes. Nice and dry there."
He is, however slowly, warming to the presence of his erstwhile-erstwhile roommate. Except,
There's a face that Lazar can make. It's even worked before - alright, sometimes, occasionally; less often than he'd like and almost exclusively with women of a certain age.
When you're being mean to him, this is who you're being mean to -
A thirty-five year old man who groans out of Barrow's bed like he's twelve, and toward the hall. Someone probably left their blankets behind when they vanished into a Rift. Or just didn't lock their door.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-01-17 10:52 pm (UTC)"Hightown," Barrow repeats, shifting his weight unconsciously as a cat leaps from the windowsill to his shoulders, "your opinion of me's higher than I thought."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-19 07:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-01-19 06:19 pm (UTC)"Too many stairs."
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Date: 2024-01-23 05:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-01-23 06:45 am (UTC)"We can move people through eluvians," he muses, "maybe, if we combine all the eluvians, we could move our base to... I don't know. The Hissing Wastes. Nice and dry there."
He is, however slowly, warming to the presence of his erstwhile-erstwhile roommate. Except,
"That's my bed, by the way."
no subject
Date: 2024-02-01 11:18 pm (UTC)But he's making it.
no subject
Date: 2024-02-02 06:35 pm (UTC)"Up," he grunts, jerking his thumb back toward the other bed.
no subject
Date: 2024-02-02 08:13 pm (UTC)A thirty-five year old man who groans out of Barrow's bed like he's twelve, and toward the hall. Someone probably left their blankets behind when they vanished into a Rift. Or just didn't lock their door.
He'll be back, unfortunately. Eventually.