[Dignities regained by abrasive apathy, but just so. Weight settled into a shoulder, angular&sharp, and he sucked deep on a candied filter, eyes settling hazy on the penpress that littered the page before the seraph with dots and delineations. Justification trailed absently into inquiry, marked by a giggle both boyish and foreign --
a little more earnest, a little less that feline harlot snatching the night.]
"I really don't care what you do with this place; how it looks, where everything is, so long as I have a bed..."
[A lilt alight that laughter, hazy and airy.]
"what the fuck are you at? Trying to realign the cosmos, Ptolemy?"