Re: Diner: 1AM-ish
Billy’s gaze caught the crumbs of powdered white rimmed in halo around the guy’s nostrils, and it made his gut pang with a deep sort of envy that was ugly and stammered in his chest. He stared from beneath the spider-legs of thick black eyelashes as he swirled his mug until the sugar dissolved and he could lift it back up to drain a third down in a swig. He didn’t wince. The astringent bite of cheap vodka barely registered on his tongue, which was stained and sweetened with the powder of crushed Valium that had dripped down the back of his nasal passage.
“Like I said, you sound the same. And almost like guys I knew growing up. Like, kinda Hamptons, kinda private school,” he explained over the rim of his mug, although that wasn’t quite it. Billy had been raised to ostensibly be the down-to-earth kind of old money, which was why they lived in a three-story brownstone on the west side of the park instead of some hotel penthouse on the east. Billy leaned further back in the booth, vinyl creaking under the slick polyester of his pants.
“I’m more than happy to keep complimenting you. I like tall guys,” he offered with a grin. Of course, most everyone was taller than him. “It’s nice to meet you officially, Shiloh. Normally people only follow up if they liked who they got anonymously rounded up with at the party, or what passed for it."