Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
"No?" Tory had a little grin that said a few things: he was an asshole, he was being an asshole, and also that he didn't mean anything by it. "Too bad, really; I do always kind of wonder what they're thinking. But I'm guessing it's pretty much a constant negotiation with themselves about not killing you and allowing pets in exchange for the further provision of food."
Now, calling him "cute" outright did have an effect on Tory, and probably one that Jamie anticipated. A little blush, high on his cheeks, staining the skin pink. He pretended not to notice and pushed on, because he wasn't about making anyone feel stupid. "It's...Linnean classification," he said slowly; not the kind of slowly like 'asshole who was speaking slowly for a person they thought of dumb,' just because he knew if he started that way, it would only require further explanation. "Just, okay, nevermind that. Point is, mushrooms aren't plants and the rest of it is stupid science nerd shit." Self-deprecating grin. He picked up one of the plates and made it fit two slices of pizza, even if they had to overlap, because he knew he'd have at least two slices and didn't feel like getting up once the first one was done. That was efficiency.
He took a seat on the couch, both feet still in his kelly green Chucks and planted firmly on the floor, but close enough that he wasn't all spread out. He tried not to take up a lot of space, but it wasn't a big couch. He let his gaze drift to the cat, lounging on the arm on the other side of Jamie. Yeah, he should really get one of those. It would make his place feel a little smaller; not that it was huge, but after small dorm rooms and New York apartments for most of his life, it felt huge.
Tory was about to ask if Jamie had been to London, Tokyo, or Paris (or all three) when he mentioned the memories again. Tory wondered if he was going to have to catch up on getting more memories (no thanks, he would rather lose that race) or drinking (which, doable, if Jamie wanted to see what pizza looked like in an entirely different form; thanks Tequila). He started small, taking a bite of his pizza, which was pretty solid for someone raised in the pizza-snob hotbed that was NYC. "Okay..." he said, drawing the word out. "What was it?" Tory wasn't exactly stocked up on tact when it came to things he didn't know, but wanted to. While he waited for an answer, he decided he'd pour out a shot of tequila. Tokyo it was.