[ Nate almost says "hey" again, like an idiot, partly because his brain is running on maximum overdrive right now and reaching the point of shorting out like a fuse in a Bogotรก electrical box, and partly because Ian looks really, really charming with a smear of machinery oil between his eyes. He smiles in spite of himself, though the expression is shuttered, muted, careful to meet the thinly-veiled anxiety from the other half of the apartment.
Nate half-sits, half-leans against the back of the couch, gaze trailing over the abandoned project on Ian's desk. ]
So...sorry I'm always- uh, bringing heavy stuff to your door.
no subject
Nate half-sits, half-leans against the back of the couch, gaze trailing over the abandoned project on Ian's desk. ]
So...sorry I'm always- uh, bringing heavy stuff to your door.