Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
This was the thing. What Jamie thought and what Jamie felt and what Jamie said, never added up. Jamie didn't feel the way this guy did, the softer, kinda buried stuff still close to the surface, he shoved that stuff way down, and it was partly why he was lying half-naked in bedsheets with a guy he'd known all of four hours at most, with disappointment, anger and remnant memory lingering sub-surface and not apparent to Tory, at all. He kinda admired Holly, a little, for putting his shit out there enough, a swing through air in the hope you'd get it caught, and he didn't feel the same kind of yk, kinship with somebody who didn't feel stuff and bury it way deep but there was a kind of admiration for feeling stuff genuinely and truthfully, even if it didn't look like you were way in control on the outside. Jamie, ftr, knew Jamie was a control freak.
"You can sack out if you want," which was said with the fuzzy languidity of Jamie showing absolutely no sign of abandoning the bed to his ...guest? In a show of hospitality. Yeah, hard pass. The couch wasn't so big and Jamie wasn't so short that it got comfortable. But like, Mars, and Jamie craned his head upward from the crumple of pillow to listen for the sounds of his little sister. What they even were, he didn't know, loud music, and indecisive world domination? And he snorted laughter, the garbled kind that was surprised.
"She'd literally love that, only like, goddess of war. Mars. Margot. My sister. I live with my little sister. She's twenty-three, red hair, kind of into whatever life has going for it right now. I don't think I've ever heard her bring a guy home. Or a girl home. I guess it could go either way." Thoughtful, and he looked at the flush that climbed Tory like a pretty self-evident barometer guide and guessed: "The walls are pretty solid, Tor." He resettled into the pillow-stack, the same kind of resettled comfort as a cat recoiling, and yeah, no, Jamie had like, levels to go off, and nothing had tripped his oh shit, shared-living environment warning, or whatever.