log: adrian and ren
That was a question, and probably more loaded than Adrian really intended it to be. None of his family would be thrilled if he was on stage accepting an award for such a thing, but all of them would be annoyed if he didn't in some way mention them. He shrugged, allowing the easy answer to settle into a lighter tone. "My mother probably. I doubt she'd ever let me live it down."
Even if she had hated her father's career of choice and done everything she could to dissuade Ren from following in his steps.
Ren put the last of the metal pieces for the machine on top of it and turned to watch Adrian's approach. He hadn't entirely expected that piece of information, although he didn't mind it. He wasn't a bartender, people didn't typically engage in sharing their secrets with him, but also Ren didn't mind it. Not that there was anything particularly secret in the information he'd gotten just yet.
He reached for the cup of tea he'd sat aside for himself, pulled out the teabag, and put the lid back on again. He sat it down on the counter in front of him, and considered Adrian. Perhaps that was part of why he'd found himself with a companion this late at night, fallen asleep in the back chair, and now standing on the other side across from him. "I don't know if I had expectations," he admitted honestly. "Considering I was running from them. But there might be possibilities here, despite the end of the road. I hope it works out for you, with your friend. Least he's near."
He paused, picked up the tea and headed for the end of the counter. "Walk me out?"