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Trystan Chenille (

chenille) wrote in

[The whore had been present enough to outline with a duplicitous landlord the confines of a very nebulous, very absent lease. Terms were negotiated, renegotiated in subtext and purrs, a maker's mark duped dumb by promises they'd registered prior to Liam's involvement. 'A guest,' he'd lied away -- though no stricter suppositions came to follow. Upon being given the key(s -- one thrown haphazardly to Liam on his way out), Trystan disappeared -- beckoned by the tin of a ringtone and the promise of poppied veins fast on its feet.

He returned to naught but the corner of the seedy little flat occupied, the other writer cramped miserably in the corner of his own mind, made manifest by the press of wings to a tobacco-stained wall, making himself small as possible.

He'd already hit a vein on the way back -- a corrupt CEO's limo housed coke and a safe conclave in which to hide a needle's prick. &oh, was he flying high -- hazy and happy to be out of a room that doubled as a flat for transaction.

He laughed, eyeing his roommate up&down,updown. Two steps closer and he stood -- willow, winnowweak before him, posture coy and far from demure.]

"You know, giving you a corner of the publicmost room wasn't exactly what I had in mind..."

[Arched eyebrow, pretty cock of the hip&head]

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