The Players: Roman Godfrey and Peter Rumancek What: Childishness from Roman, as usual Where: Their apartment When: Sunday night Rating: 17 possibly? Trigger Warnings: Blood, language, maybe drugs/talk Status: Closed/Ongoing Notes: NA
The apartment seemed way too empty with both Peter and Nadia gone, which set Roman’s nerves on edge in the worst way possible. He tried to read, but after he’d read the same sentence a dozen times and the words hadn’t made an impact on his brain he threw the book at the wall and got himself a drink. At least there were some advantages to having Godfrey Industries existing in this world – he didn’t have to feed elsewhere and the fridge was always full. Even that didn’t take the edge off of his mood, though.
His mind started to wander; perhaps Peter was out playing happy families with his new blonde. The glass in hand shattered, spewing blood everywhere. Roman cursed and stood, letting the glass fall to the floor as he went to get a dust pan and cloth. The flash of anger that preceded the smash throbbed at his hind-brain, daring him to confront it and give it form.
By the time Peter returned, the stain was gone, but the feelings connected to it were running rampant. “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped testily, “can you at least leave me a note to let me know where you’re taking Nadia so I can relax a little?”