got distracted halfway through blahblah drama blah blah
Strel snorted into the cushions, almost a tiny laugh even. "Stale? It was hardly stale. It was damn fresh, never opened. Good stuff. Rum," he said, his words fragmented as his body moved up. He had watched for the other man's reaction through dizzy eyes and heard for notes in his voice through fuzzy ears. "I think if you drank more you'd enjoy it far more," he said rather harshly, thinking that Noss should have partaken in it more often than he had. Of course that was just because Strel himself partook in it now and then, and never in small amounts. The redhead gave another indignant snort, rolling his eyes even though the room was already spinning plenty. "I don't, and I didn't. I drank with Sylvie and then Alaine, I think we did at least." He gave a confused look, trying to recall as best as he could. But he just gave up and shrugged, laying his head down on the arm rest.
The redhead tried to look bored, he did, but it was hard with his ears flattening out for a moment before going back up. He looked out of the corner of his eye at the other man and tried, tried, tried so hard to seem nonchalant, careless, zen. "Oh? Intentions? What are her.. her intentions?" he questioned, pointedly not asking Noss what his own intention were; he felt he might not like to hear it, especially drunk. Then, laughing slightly, he shook his head as best as he could. Dismissively, he said, "Miss you? What makes you think I'd miss you?" It was evident, though, that he would, seeing as he thought Noss was leaving now and would not be back. And he was currently marinating in alcohol to prove it further.
He looked at the hand, just staring at it with lavender eyes. They grew hard rather than the soft they were from the effects of the alcohol. Running those hued orbs up and down, Strel frowned, carefree attitude dead on the water. "No." He was refusing to go upstairs, anywhere, but Noss. He was not in the mood, he was secretly hurting. Why would he go with him? Why would he, in his not so right mind, go with Noss, who was only going to leave him again and was probably only here to say good bye? Why would he ever even consider he would go with? "No, fuck you," he said harshly, well aware of the strength of his words and tone. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Strel was still bitter about the other man's confession; it seemed too soon and too false for him to smile and bear it easily. "Leave me alone."
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