Who: Felix and Abra Where: Felix's Room When: After this!
Felix had spent most of the day since returning for the obstacle course feeling restless and a little discontent. He masked it well for the few interactions he had during the day, before finally retiring to surf the network for the remainder of the night. The obstacle course had been full of promise. Everything in him wanted to take advantage of the space and stretch, and roll, and move like he knew he could, but keeping up appearances took precedent. Always took precedent. It irked him in the same way wanting to get started with something, anything that involved the job did. Every time he had an idea of something fun to play around with, someone, he was reminded of the concern that there were so few of them now, and that anything could be considered suspicious. He felt so weirdly off balance that he wasn't certain if he was playing it too carefully, or overthinking it, which was enough of a strange and unfamiliar sensation for him on its own.
Then, Marco.
Marco was always ripe for use, and it wasn't lost on Felix that some of his best work with ExB was done at the guy's expense, but it felt....wrong somehow to think about doing it now. And didn't that just kick him in the figurative cajones. That tiny voice in the dusty back corner of his brain, the one that usually knew well enough to stay quiet, was faintly rearing its sleepy little head. It reminded him that he'd actually felt minutely, but legitimately bad when the octopus had died, even if it was only for a nearly nonexistent amount of time. Marco. Stupid, easy Marco with his fucked up problems, and stupid, scared fucking face, and no one there to keep him from rolling off the deep end this time around. Sure, Felix could go back to business as usual, and enjoy it, and laugh about it with the others, but there was some legitimate danger here, wasn't there? If They were planning on fucking with the heroin again, which no doubt they were, no one was watching the guy. No Juno to call him out, no Oliver to drag his ass back, no Cecilia to save him if he overdosed. Marco was a slippery slope, a murder waiting to happen, and it bothered him that he was probably the only person in ExB who cared if it went that far. Not because Audrey and Levi might not care, but that he would. And he hated it. Even a dysfunctional conscience was a terrible thing to have.
And then, Abra. If Felix had to pinpoint one thing, aside from plotting with Audrey and Levi, that he'd especially enjoyed since rejoining the household, it was probably his mostly-ambiguous conversations with the woman he'd mentally nicknamed Deets. Frankly, he understood her sentiment on not knowing whether or not she liked him, because he felt practically the same way. He enjoyed her, what little interactions they'd actually had, and while he'd already wanted to break into his stash for the first time since returning just to level out, he wasn't lying that he really did prefer not to smoke alone.
The offer also doubled as a bit of a test. With most of his stash locked safely away in the batcave, if she did end up telling someone, and they came looking, they'd never walk away with the entirety of it. If he had to sacrifice a few joints to get a better read on the girl, he'd do it. In the meantime, it was probably the best opportunity he'd get to learn more about her.
He left his door open as he'd promised, lining up his plethora of STD plushies along the shelf wall that met his mattress. Their stupid, smiley faces aimed directly at the door, silently begging for someone new to contract one of them and take them home. He snorted at that thought as he sat on the floor, leaning against the bed with his feet stretched out before him. His bare foot lightly grazed the leg of the piano as he began to roll a joint, fairly confident that there was no reason for anyone besides Audrey to be in that area of the house to see him.