Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
Eventually, and it took a little time, Tory got over the giggles. He wasn't really giggly as a rule, but he was drinking and that kind of made a lot of excuses for everything, right? He was a little out of breath, a bit red in the face by the time he was able to ease up and actually start breathing again. "Oh god, never again," he vowed, still chuckling a bit and holding a hand to his chest. "Wow. It's a really good thing I'm not looking to start a new career. I'd love to see you try and science shit when you're drunk, though," he smirked while using a hand to brush his hair away from his face.
Tory - obviously - wasn't 90 pounds of ballerina princess, but 165 of gangly boy. He took Jamie's hand and let himself be hauled, albeit unsteadily, to his feet. He didn't overbalance, fall into Jamie like would have happened in a hundred different romantic comedies, he was sure, but he didn't let go immediately, either. Because they were close and all, and his heart was still kind of pounding, and he could say that it had taken three shots of tequila to get this point, but when it had come down to it, it might have just taken getting to know Jamie a little. The tequila was just encouragement. "Thanks," he grinned back, and even though he let go of Jamie's hand eventually he didn't really move away, and there was a nervous little sway to his stance, like he wasn't sure where to begin. Because he wasn't. "I might need to go lay down," he suggested quietly, eyebrows raised up just a little. But then, because he was Tory: "And if you wanted to be there too, since, you know, it would be your bed and all, because there's probably no way I'm getting myself home any time soon..." This was the romantic comedy part, here. He thought; wasn't really his brand.