[ Treavor was watching the eggs and he was watching nothing and he was watching Hope, and by the time he looks at Alice again, he sees there’s something very… Wrong? Distressing?
Fuck, was that a shadow of horror? What did Treavor say, was it the thing about Alice’s shirt, or about not eating the eggs (shit, shit, did he offend the guy, leave him thinking there was something wrong with the perfectly probably good eggs?), or, shit, did talking about the shit he said about Alice-at-work’s clothes reminds Alice what a dick he’s got in his home, or, or…?
Fuck, Alice looks agitated. The whole room feels agitated. (Treavor gives Hope another careful pet, soothing just in case she’s caught onto the agitation too.)
Fuck, did Treavor break the guy?
Or—?
Wait.
Wait wait wait this is about?
Holy fuck. He could almost laugh, he could definitely crack a grin (it’s kind of… hey, it’s kind of cute, seeing the guy flustered like this, and it’s nothing big, just the matter of Treavor’s shirt, and shit, this guy’s fussy when he wants to be, and it doesn’t sit bad on him), only he doesn’t want Alice to think he’s mocking the guy or like… Not taking him seriously.
He’s. Pretty invested in this shirt thing. Treavor doesn’t see the big deal, but then Treavor pretty regularly wears not-quite-clean clothes and did this guy just suggest robbing the neighbors? Treavor can’t tell whether that’s Alice making a joke or Alice being serious, thinks probably it’s a mix of the two, thinks holy shit, this guy’s a perfect storm of cleanliness when he gets going, isn’t he?
And that muttering. Treavor doesn’t hate that muttering, either; has to wipe a growing grin from his face and nod, nod, tell himself that all right, maybe Treavor doesn’t give two fucks about rewearing the shirt, but if it’s gonna cause this kind of seismic upset with Alice, he’ll chill out on that suggestion.
And. Wear whatever Alice has got in his closet. Which might not be… so… bad? (Which, hey, Treavor’s got a jacket, his jacket, his style, so okay, he can survive any shirt for a little while.)
He nods again, watching Alice, offering imploring eyes in an attempt at letting the guy know he’s not gonna put up a fight on this one. That okay, hey, if this’ll make Alice’s life a little easier, Treavor’ll accept the fate of sporting a different shirt. ]
Hey, no need to get you into trouble with the neighbors, huh?
[ This time he doesn’t try to hide the half-grin. ]
…No burning my shirt, either. I like that shirt. Hey. It might reek, but that’s my reek. And that shirt and me’ve got memories.
[ Kind… of. He vaguely remembers where it came from, does remember he felt good about its vibe. Doesn’t remember much about the other nights he wore it, but last night’s pretty clear, and last night was pretty great, and hey, that shirt’s his official sitting-on-the-dock-with-Alice shirt, that’s important, and Treavor’s grin’s gone a little daft with sentiment. He cocks his head, fixes Alice with a meaningful stare. ]
Important memories, now.
Look, okay, deal time: I’ll wear… something. Whatever you’ve got. You can even pick it, and I won’t gripe unless it’s let's say over 35% orange. I can’t wear orange, fuck, nope. Otherwise I’ll hold my head up and endure whatever you've got, and you don’t burn my shirt, all right?
[ And, after a moment, he sticks out a hand, arm holding not quite steady. ]
Shake on it?
[ ...Oh. Wait.
Hands full. Alice's hands are very full. Shit.
Treavor draws his hand back, scratches his neck. ]
no subject
Fuck, was that a shadow of horror? What did Treavor say, was it the thing about Alice’s shirt, or about not eating the eggs (shit, shit, did he offend the guy, leave him thinking there was something wrong with the perfectly probably good eggs?), or, shit, did talking about the shit he said about Alice-at-work’s clothes reminds Alice what a dick he’s got in his home, or, or…?
Fuck, Alice looks agitated. The whole room feels agitated. (Treavor gives Hope another careful pet, soothing just in case she’s caught onto the agitation too.)
Fuck, did Treavor break the guy?
Or—?
Wait.
Wait wait wait this is about?
Holy fuck. He could almost laugh, he could definitely crack a grin (it’s kind of… hey, it’s kind of cute, seeing the guy flustered like this, and it’s nothing big, just the matter of Treavor’s shirt, and shit, this guy’s fussy when he wants to be, and it doesn’t sit bad on him), only he doesn’t want Alice to think he’s mocking the guy or like… Not taking him seriously.
He’s. Pretty invested in this shirt thing. Treavor doesn’t see the big deal, but then Treavor pretty regularly wears not-quite-clean clothes and did this guy just suggest robbing the neighbors? Treavor can’t tell whether that’s Alice making a joke or Alice being serious, thinks probably it’s a mix of the two, thinks holy shit, this guy’s a perfect storm of cleanliness when he gets going, isn’t he?
And that muttering. Treavor doesn’t hate that muttering, either; has to wipe a growing grin from his face and nod, nod, tell himself that all right, maybe Treavor doesn’t give two fucks about rewearing the shirt, but if it’s gonna cause this kind of seismic upset with Alice, he’ll chill out on that suggestion.
And. Wear whatever Alice has got in his closet. Which might not be… so… bad? (Which, hey, Treavor’s got a jacket, his jacket, his style, so okay, he can survive any shirt for a little while.)
He nods again, watching Alice, offering imploring eyes in an attempt at letting the guy know he’s not gonna put up a fight on this one. That okay, hey, if this’ll make Alice’s life a little easier, Treavor’ll accept the fate of sporting a different shirt. ]
Hey, no need to get you into trouble with the neighbors, huh?
[ This time he doesn’t try to hide the half-grin. ]
…No burning my shirt, either. I like that shirt. Hey. It might reek, but that’s my reek. And that shirt and me’ve got memories.
[ Kind… of. He vaguely remembers where it came from, does remember he felt good about its vibe. Doesn’t remember much about the other nights he wore it, but last night’s pretty clear, and last night was pretty great, and hey, that shirt’s his official sitting-on-the-dock-with-Alice shirt, that’s important, and Treavor’s grin’s gone a little daft with sentiment. He cocks his head, fixes Alice with a meaningful stare. ]
Important memories, now.
Look, okay, deal time: I’ll wear… something. Whatever you’ve got. You can even pick it, and I won’t gripe unless it’s let's say over 35% orange. I can’t wear orange, fuck, nope. Otherwise I’ll hold my head up and endure whatever you've got, and you don’t burn my shirt, all right?
[ And, after a moment, he sticks out a hand, arm holding not quite steady. ]
Shake on it?
[ ...Oh. Wait.
Hands full. Alice's hands are very full. Shit.
Treavor draws his hand back, scratches his neck. ]
Okay, not shake, maybe. Nod on it?
[ Treavor nods. See? There. A lot easier. ]