[Lost in his own mind was putting it mildly. It was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them particularly productive, mulling on people, on events, on the good and mostly the bad, but nothing that deserved going down on paper, no matter how many times he pressed the tip of his pen to the white surface. The paper was littered with dots, with the starts of letters, crumpled pages laying on the ground beside him, evidence of fruitless effort.
He didn't look up when the other man entered, flying high and happy, not until he spoke, at least. Only then did blue eyes track upwards, meeting that tipped head and arched brow before he ground out the remains of the cigarette that had burned down to the filter some moments before.]
You want me to go to the bedroom? Just seemed more comfortable out here, but I'll move if you need me. [Willing to please, eager even, the pen tucked back behind one ear for safe keeping.]