Re: Quicklog, Marvel: Louis D/Cris M
[He heard the door, and he listened to the approaching steps without turning from the counter. There was no wandering, which meant it wasn't some opportunist looking for something to lift. There was no sharp voice, no searching 'Daddy!', which meant it wasn't Elena with Teresa. So it had to be Louis.—Cris took that fact as he worked a mug from the cluttered cupboard, and began to pour his guest a cup. There was a half-gallon of milk on the counter, and the sugar container, a ceramic barrel flecked with brown, was pulled out from the wall, lid off. He occupied himself, turning only when Louis spoke.
Cris let himself take the other man in. He saw the blue bowl of exhaustion under the man's eyes, skin there thin and pale, the day-old clothes, and he could feel whatever it was that was keeping Louis going, and he didn't like it. His expression said as much when he dropped the mug on the small table in front of his partner. He passed over sugar and milk and moved back to the counter to get himself a cup.
After another quiet moment, he sat across the table from Louis, knees wide and leaning back in the chair.] When was the last time you slept?