Re: Electronics Shop Apartments: Shiloh F, Alex W
Alex looked up from his consideration of the keys, now a few feet down the hall (it hadn't been much of a kick, really), sweeping the headphones off his head and to the back of his neck in one smooth motion while his other hand, the bag from the store still dangling from his wrist, shut down the music. It was fair to say that Alex looked a little sheepish at being caught out at having a little fit of temper and all, and it was a moment before he turned those baleful bluish, greenish eyes in Shiloh's direction. His lips twitched back and forth a couple times before he spoke.
"Naw, it's--" The words were slow and soft like he was afraid he might otherwise overcompensate for the volume of the music he was no longer listening to. They held a trace of the mountains: not the hills of Appalachia, but the Rockies - newer, younger, harsher, not quite as worn down by age just yet - though the poverty inherent was the same. That was in the diction, more than the pronunciation of the words, which spoke of poor education and word beginnings and endings thrust together before being expelled by a small pink tongue, past uneven front teeth and chapped lips. "Today did." He slouched over to the keys, stooping to pick them up. "Are your windows still like, there?" He asked after scooping them up and turning around, pushing hair out of the way of his left eye. "Y'know, not busted?"