Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
Jamie? Was a cat person. Like, small dogs were kind of yappy and snappy, and the bigger ones scared the shit out of him and OK, cats had claws and teeth and shit, but they like, removed themselves from a situation rather than making a situation BIGGER. It was kinda a rule to live by, even if he wasn't really all that great at emulating that shit. He was kinda vaguely under the impression the guy on the forums, with the earnest stuff about Kindles thought he was like, fifteen or something instead of just, yk, twenty-four and kind of dumb and Jamie never liked feeling stupid. No one did, it was why he'd skipped class. The guy checked out the interior of the apartment like Cat did. Kinda taking shit in, zero interest in picking a fight - or anything else.
Tory waved at Cat, who was doing that inscrutable thing cats did, where they were somewhere between pissed off and half-asleep, and you didn't know which way the half-slitted eye stance thing was going to go until you'd gotten slashed for it, which Jamie figured was probably fair. He wouldn't have wanted anyone going for his ears if he was half-asleep. He spoke like Cat could answer back, and Jamie grinned. A little loose, blame tequila, but definitely amused.
"She can't answer," and Jamie didn't feel like, intimate. He didn't know the guy, apart from ten minutes of seeing his greatest teenage hits and Jamie didn't feel like Hugh knew him at all, which would have been the comparison here. But it was weird, probably, and Jamie was breezing right through weird, without bothering to stop. "I was vague," he agreed, clearing off a couple dirty mugs and putting them into the small sink. The space wasn't enormous, it was kinda just about big enough for one and a half, and it felt a lot smaller when Mars was in it. He followed along, a little, and when the guy stopped, eventually, he laughed. A little confused, but he laughed and Jamie had zero idea wtf a phyla was, and he said so. "I have no fucking clue what a phyla is, but that whole thing was kind of cute." He rummaged for plates, without like, serious follow-up, because it was a statement of fact rather than like, intent, and he handed one slightly chipped white plate to the guy, and took another for himself.
He ladled a piece of pizza onto it, and licked his thumb and finger clear of grease which was kind of like, a big deal even if Tory was oblivious, and he padded back toward the couch, the cat and the tequila. There was one shot-glass, slightly sticky, and a couple, cleaner that were clearly fucking novelty gifts, and Jamie folded himself into a comfortable spot on the couch and made room. It wasn't like there was a lot of it, in general.
"I took London," he said, unnecessarily, because the shot-glass rimed with tequila had LONDON, printed in script on the side, and a bridge thing, and Paris and Tokyo were clean. "Full disclosure, I just got another round of someone else's stuff, so I'm definitely ahead. You're gonna need to catch up."