Beyond Evolution

Early that morning, as the sun burned through the gap in the cheap curtains and the guy who wanted to be called Maniac refastened his gratuitous wallet chains, Hendrix pretended to be asleep. He wasn't really a morning person, even after a good night; last night hardly qualified as good, even before the part with the one-night motel room, and he'd be damned if he dealt with awkward morning-after conversation before he had to. It wasn't that hard, keeping his eyes closed and shifting position every once in a while, and he'd had enough practice over the last couple of years to be good at it. Honestly, Maniac wasn't even that much to look at. Arrogant, thought he was god's gift to groupies everywhere, wore his nakedness like a flashy and expensive suit, but ultimately didn't even come close to living up to his own hype. It was more than Hendrix could deal with on as little sleep as he'd had; if nothing else, he was waiting until the guy had put all his clothes back on before pretending to wake up, just so he wouldn't have to put up with the preening. Once the shirt went back one, once that stupid hair was back in place, then he'd bring up the fact that he still needed a ride home. At least, that was the plan.

His jeans landed right on his head, wallet still in the back pocket, heavy enough to make a good, solid thunk as they hit his forehead. "Get up." The voice was a hell of a lot snippier than Maniac had any right to be. Opening his eyes, Hendrix could see him standing on the other side of the room - fully clothed, amazingly - his arms folded across his chest and his face set in a really poor imitation of a tough guy scowl. The look didn't suit him at all, but clearly Maniac thought it did; there was a weird, defensive sort of pride underneath it, like he really thought he was that cool and he needed Hendrix to think so too. "Get up, get dressed, and get going," he went on, and suddenly the pieces started falling into place. Christ, what a cliche. Rolling his eyes, Hendrix dragged the jeans under the sheets with him and started to pull them on.

( There wasn't really any small talk to make after an opener like that )

(narrative, closed)