Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Trevor looked down at her hand as it latched onto him, looking and forth between her death grip and her uncomfortable expression. "Alright?" He asked, forgetting about it once she stepped back and began showing off the room.
The decorations were not only not to his liking but he had a hard time picturing the sort of person that would like it. "Ugh," he made a face but started rooting through everything anyway, pointing out things with his bottle.