Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
Okay, so maybe some of the rambling was the tequila; Tory was definitely feeling it now. Most of it, though, was really just Tory. It was kind of all his insecurities on display: not really just getting old or dying alone, but the fact that he'd ignored a full third of his life; the part most people had filled with interpersonal relationships, there was a void in Tory. When most kids had been gossiping and going to parties, Tory had been studying and baldly suspicious of the world around him. Then Colin had shown up, and he'd spent 16 months in an obsession for the kid, only to find out what his feelings actually were, and that they were returned, far too late. He'd coped the only way he knew how, which was to dive back into school, and at some point, he realized that he'd never really had a childhood; not in the conventional way. So he covered it with jokes and rambling about the things that actually interested him which weren't people.
Tory looked down at Jamie and returned the smile, thinking he wasn't doing "up there" in a couple different senses, given that he was kneeling at Tory's feet, which was vaguely uncomfortable position for him. He wasn't really a take-the-lead kind of guy. He still kept his hand on Jamie's shoulder though, thinking he would need the balance assist, but also convinced that if he was going to go down it wasn't going to be nearly enough to keep him upright. He kept his other hand, or tried, in what ever completely awkward position Jamie had placed it in. "So, am I going for like a full 180 degree angle with my feet?" He asked, trying to couch it in terms his own brain would understand. "You know that's impossible. Should I have like stretched or something first?"
He tried turning his hips out wider, and he felt the first twinge of something there; a muscle or a tendon that was not fond of the motion. "I think this is as far as they go," he confessed, and bit off a joke about who and what and when got to see the insides of his thighs. "Right, dance belt," he said, inching his feet a little wider, millimeter by millimeter. "Dancing thing, not a quirk thing, right. And what the hell is a dance belt?" Sweat was starting to prickle on his brow, and his legs picked up a little tremble.