Re: Living room: Holly & Noah
So, Holly was in a really good mood, and it had nothing to do with this housewarming party. He was slightly high, but barely, and he was hating the world a little less than usual at the moment. But, okay, to be fair? The whole reason he had agreed to come? Was because of said good mood. Okay, okay, no; he would've come anyway to ensure Audrey didn't do her seemingly clueless hair twirling in Noah's direction. And that blanket-reminiscent onesie? Had chased away any doubts Holly had about coming along this evening.
But, heroes. Holly wasn't sure he had any heroes. Look, he hadn't met very many heroic people in his life, right? He had briefly considered just wearing his fatigues, but he kinda didn't want anything military anywhere near his skin, and that idea was nixed fairly early. In the end? He just threw together a bunch of mimatched shit, an old ID, doctored, and slung some cameras over his arm. Was a journalist heroic? He figured sure, and he was heavily considering a foray into true crime journalism, since a) he loved that shit and b) it was wildly successful on YouTube. So, right, he looked like a dork and absolutely didn't care thanks to the aforementioned good mood.
As for why? That was pretty evident: No crutches. He still had Dante's thin brace under his jeans, because he needed support help, but his knee was insanely improved. Sure, it ached sometimes, and he'd absolutely stopped going to the doctor (because the guy was about to stick him under a magnifying glass), and so he didn't know how healed his knee was, but actions spoke louder than words, right? And actions led him into the annoyingly lit house and to that comfy couch, where he flopped back against Noah's armpit like he a) belonged there and b) wasn't an invalid. "You're going to be up all night if you have that much chocolate," he told Noah, deadpan, without a turn of his head, and as he looked around to see just what kinda drama he figured they were in for tonight. Hugh and Dietre, which might lead to more heartbreak. Seven and Marta? Somewhere Jamie had to be blowing his fucking top. Audrey and some guy in a tacky coat, which could prove to be a good thing for him. Alex and Ren, which maybe he could picture happening. And other people he didn't know at all. He reached up for Noah's hand, held the guy's fingers, as that arm draped over his shoulder, and contemplated annoying fairy lights and his own inability to bake anything.