Re: Billy/Tandy: the neighborhood
Were he asked, Billy would have made reassurances that it was pretty safe for Tandy to assume the things he said were always dirty. That would have been painting himself with a brush only mostly accurate, but in keeping with Billy’s desire to maintain a surface-level sense of ease, lightheartedness. “Oh my god, you are literally a nerd from the fifties,” he said, laughter illuminated and making it clear that he found this fact to be a positive. Ticks on the list of reasons why he was glad he’d asked Tandy to move in with him. “Do you come with your own pocket protector? I guess, technically, yes it’s like hanky-panky.”
Standing in the doorway before Tandy headed in to make his up-close inspection, Billy looked at the room anew and tried to imagine it through fresh eyes. But all he could think about was a sea of paint chips, indigo and turquoise foaming over into eggshell and linen and lapping at his ankles. “Yeah, I mean, it’ll probably end up getting used when we have people over?” He glanced over his shoulder and up to assess Tandy’s feelings about this, hesitant. “There’s another bathroom downstairs, but yeah. Other than that, it’s all yours.” He shrugged one shoulder, like, nbd, because Tandy had needed a room and Billy came from a family where individuality was paramount and that certainly applied to bedrooms, too. He wasn’t an artist, but he knew enough about colour theory and what looked good together to come up with something that reflected his perception of Tandy’s vibe. The concern had been whether it landed squarely.
There were only eight pillows, and Billy’s mouth opened automatically to defend this point, before he thought better of it and shut it again with a click of his teeth and a curling smirk. “Sure, but I don’t have the swing set up yet.” He angled down the hall towards his bedroom and nudged the door open ahead of Tandy’s approach.