Who: Trent & Lincoln What: The return When: August 25th 2014 Where: Lincoln's safe house Extra Notes: Rated R / Private, in progress
He had gone home the night before, actually making it after the time he had had with Lincoln, and instead of collapsing straight into bed like he had wanted to, he made his way into the kitchen. He had the biggest craving for something sweet when he usually didn't. He didn't even have ice cream in the freezer. Instead, he found the pint of orange juice he had bought earlier that week, still mostly full, and chugged it down, not even bothering with getting a glass. Sometimes it was nice to be without his roommate from back home. Once that was done, he threw the carton in the trash and headed for his bed, barely remembering to lock the front door before he did so. With how sluggish he was feeling, he wouldn't be surprised if he passed out the absolute second his face hit the pillow - which it did. He had brief dreams of little red lights, two together, but didn't remember them when he woke up.
He slept on through the rest of Monday and into the early evening, waking up to find his bedroom dark and the clock next to him reading eight thirty. With a groan, he sat up in bed and pushed his hair back from his face with both hands, finding that he hadn't even bothered to change before getting into bed. For a moment, he just sat there before getting up and changing, moving to the kitchen to get something to eat - his stomach was screaming at him and he still felt a little weak. Weird. He had built up a high level of stamina since coming here and though last night had been satisfying, he was surprised he felt this way. Maybe he was getting sick? On the way to the kitchen, he noticed that he was missing his jacket. If he had been on the bike without it late at night, it would have been cold. Did he leave it at Lincoln's place? He must have...
After finishing with stuffing himself with grilled meat he had in the freezer, he got on his bike and headed over to the man's place, wondering if it was going to be overly weird with him just showing up - like he had last night. He didn't have the man's phone number and didn't even know if he had a phone. Some people didn't. But he needed his jacket... And that was why he was here again, idling in front of the shorter man's place from last night. His fingers twitched and he ached for a cigarette but passed on it, not wanting to smell like smoke. Smoking was something he did when he wasn't about to be with a client, or on his days off. A lot of people found it to be a disgusting habit and he kept it down to one or two of the white sticks a day, maybe more if he was stressed... kinda like he was now. Didn't matter, he was here and he should just do this, awkward or not. He had been the idiot to leave his jacket here.