Re: Electronics Shop Apartments: Shiloh F, Alex W
Blankly and politely, though not one hundred percent unsmiling. That was very much Mal. Alex had known him nearly half a year now, and he still thought it was hard to get a read on him. Careful and paranoid were two sides of the same coin and just a matter of perception. Alex thought of him as the former, while Mal had self-described as the latter. But there had been times when he'd let down the guard just enough, and that had been reassuring for Alex. He was grounded in a serious way, Mal. For Alex, who had both literally and figuratively drifted along for a while now, having something - someone - to hold onto (figuratively, anyhow) was an important thing.
"Yes," Alex agreed, and even with a little more enthusiasm for anything than he typically showed. He loved Cyndi Lauper, but he hadn't listened to that song since the last time he'd died, over the summer. He could still remember walking down that dark street when the arrow had hit him in the stomach with the words from the song on his lips and the music in his ears, followed by the blood in his lungs and mouth. He'd come back to it, eventually. "It's so sweet, and sad, both." Which seemed to be a running theme with him lately.
It wasn't ancient, this computer, but it would've certainly looked at home in a classroom circa 2002. He knew Mal had done something to the guts of the thing, though, to make it run a lot better than it appeared it could. He got up and turned it on and then sat back down next to Shiloh. But of course, he suddenly felt uncomfortable at the thought of Shiloh financing his little home improvement project. "Y'don't...have to," he said a little awkwardly, biting the inside of his cheek and really wondering what it would take to not be seen as a charity case by everyone he met. Yes, that had been life-saving, when he was homeless. Now it felt...phony. He cherished kindness, but at some point, it started to feel like pity.