With an introduction, the veil of confusion lifted -- although considering the plumes of bourbon in his veins and smoke in his eyes, it took a lengthy moment. Honey. Vince's wife. Before she'd made her post on the forum, Lukas hadn't noticed that something was wrong. Of course, it broke his little bromance heart that Vince hadn't texted him or swung by to share his favorite deaf joke of the day. Still, that kind of absence could be expected of someone like Vince, somebody with a life.
Realizing that he was still clutching the volatile woman, Lukas released her with a note of reluctance. Hesitant only because she might stab him in the face with her car keys any moment, and because she smelled like satanic ambrosia.
Catching the nervous, disgusted, trail of her attention around his apartment, Lukas was reminded by why he never let anybody in here. He took a step back to pry the little spiral notepad and pen out of his back denim pocket. Jotting swiftly, scratching out, and jotting again; Lukas managed to not look up at her when he wrote, or when he passed the note over.
Lukas. Vince is not here, but I have not checked the frees theres only soco in the freezer. . .