Jackson opened the door and a flood of thumping pulse-pounding trance like beat slipped into the hallway. Jackson himself leaned against the doorjamb looking out, hair tousled, shirt off, bare feet peeking out under his jeans. For a moment, he didn't seem to register that it was Gatsby, his gaze disfocused, then he grinned and motioned him in.
"C'mon in, hang out a second while I find a clean shirt." He twisted the volume down on the desk speakers he had attached to his laptop, turning the music down to a decent volume to speak over. "I was taking advantage of Johnny being out and getting in some not-breaking-things time in the room."
A statement which made no sense to anyone but him or his roommate, he realized as he burrowed into the top drawer of his bureau. "I was running through tae kwon do forms," he explained as he turned around, a black Good Charlotte t-shirt in his hands. "It's easier when I can shove things out of the way." He stretched, pulling the t-shirt over his head and down, then looked at his feet and at the potential selection of shoes.
He wiggled bare toes. "Is this a sneakers or a boots sort of thing?" In other words, indoors or out?