[ One leg slung out before him, disheveled and veering toward real fuckin' buzzed nah that's more than a buzz, Treavor's been working on a handle of rye and watching the water, thinking what would happen if he took a run jumped into the water, maybe escaped across the water or just live in the okay probably sludge-filmed water with the possibly mutated fish. It could be nice. It could be different.
(They'd probably find him there.)
(Anyway, there's no booze in the ocean really. Just a lot, a lot of salt.)
He thinks, vaguely, that he'd be a fish with red and blue and purple scales, little bit of gold (like his shirt! black and purple and gold! he'd be a stylish fish! he IS a stylish fish!). He could be a good fish.
...He could be an okay fish.
Right now, it looks like he's maybe a caught fish. (Speaking of finding.) (Speaking of the jags his family sends to find him.) (Yeah but. Sure why is The Golden Intern here but also hadn't Treavor been texting the dude and doesn't he usually not know a fucking thing about not recognize anyone sent after him?)
He could give this guy the finger. Tell him to quit while he's ahead - how the fuck hasn't this guy quit, yeah yeah rent independence man whatever - or get up and run, see who's caught now!
But he's not really annoyed? Guy's not talking to him like an asshole (yet) and guy does have a cat with a special occasions collar, so mayyyybe he can come close.
Maybe. Jury's still out, ha ha, insert shitty law firm joke here.
He doesn't realize he's been staring at the guy. Not really assessing, but dead-on staring, no relenting, and now he blinks, takes a drink. ]
Go ahead and run, see what happens.
[ And, without pause— ]
Nothing. Nothing's what happens who's gonna find you not me.
[ It's not exactly friendly. It also isn't hostile. Treavor runs a hand up the back of his neck, scratching or just mussing with his hair, who can tell. And Treavor goes back to staring at this guy because that's where is eyes are what do you care where he's staring, he'll stare where he wants thank you very much! ]
no subject
(They'd probably find him there.)
(Anyway, there's no booze in the ocean really. Just a lot, a lot of salt.)
He thinks, vaguely, that he'd be a fish with red and blue and purple scales, little bit of gold (like his shirt! black and purple and gold! he'd be a stylish fish! he IS a stylish fish!). He could be a good fish.
...He could be an okay fish.
Right now, it looks like he's maybe a caught fish. (Speaking of finding.) (Speaking of the jags his family sends to find him.) (Yeah but. Sure why is The Golden Intern here but also hadn't Treavor been texting the dude and doesn't he usually not know a fucking thing about not recognize anyone sent after him?)
He could give this guy the finger. Tell him to quit while he's ahead - how the fuck hasn't this guy quit, yeah yeah rent independence man whatever - or get up and run, see who's caught now!
But he's not really annoyed? Guy's not talking to him like an asshole (yet) and guy does have a cat with a special occasions collar, so mayyyybe he can come close.
Maybe. Jury's still out, ha ha, insert shitty law firm joke here.
He doesn't realize he's been staring at the guy. Not really assessing, but dead-on staring, no relenting, and now he blinks, takes a drink. ]
Go ahead and run, see what happens.
[ And, without pause— ]
Nothing. Nothing's what happens who's gonna find you not me.
[ It's not exactly friendly. It also isn't hostile. Treavor runs a hand up the back of his neck, scratching or just mussing with his hair, who can tell. And Treavor goes back to staring at this guy because that's where is eyes are what do you care where he's staring, he'll stare where he wants thank you very much! ]