Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Shoving away his journal, Trevor dragged himself off the couch and toward the door. He wasn't very perturbed about having Verity over, he had no plans for the night and felt too lazy to go out. Which only meant he sat around the boring house trying to find entertainment with his damn journal. And Gretchen wasn't even around to entertain him.
"Hey," he opened the door and greeted her, stepping back to let her and her bag of groceries in. And any night he got someone to make a fry up for him was generally a good one. Not that it happened too often. "Kitchen's through there," he added, gesturing down the hall for her.