That energy seems to take a toll on Niles directly. He doesn't even bother to negate the taunt. He's too busy trying to figure out how to keep his legs under him while the room seemed intent on listing to one side. Since when did simple port hit him so hard? He'd only had two drinks. He should barely be tipsy. And yet, it felt as though he'd already had a hard night of drinking.
Niles fully intends to follow Gabe out. But feeling the cold hardwood of his floor through his socks reminds him that he needed shoes. It wasn't even that he'd be judged for wandering into an establishment of ill repute without proper footwear. It was that the walk there was bound to be littered with debris. Even the tiniest pebble could cut like glass.
Glass.
He stood in the middle of his living room, rubbing at the leather over his palm with the thumb of the opposing hand.
He looked at the unlaced boots laying on the floor. Dealing with all those laces seemed exhausting. He had better shoes. Less complicated shoes. In his closet. He managed to reach it with only leaning on half of the furniture between him and the closet doors. And he was mostly upright. He was starting to wonder if Gabe swapped bottles on him. That was just port, right?
He pulled open the closet and remembered his socks were wrong. Too thick for dress shoes. And he was reaching for the chest of drawers that occupied one side. Tugging open the top drawer, he saw them. Two boxes of vastly different size and quality nestled beside his socks. One made of wood that had once been a gift from parent to child. The other, much smaller, once held an Old World watch.
Staring down at them, he forgot why he'd come in there. He forgot about the socks. And the shoes. The friend who was likely already bounding into the NeedWant. The woman he was supposed to see. "...Connor..." he breathed out, reaching down to touch the smaller of the two boxes.
no subject
Niles fully intends to follow Gabe out. But feeling the cold hardwood of his floor through his socks reminds him that he needed shoes. It wasn't even that he'd be judged for wandering into an establishment of ill repute without proper footwear. It was that the walk there was bound to be littered with debris. Even the tiniest pebble could cut like glass.
Glass.
He stood in the middle of his living room, rubbing at the leather over his palm with the thumb of the opposing hand.
He looked at the unlaced boots laying on the floor. Dealing with all those laces seemed exhausting. He had better shoes. Less complicated shoes. In his closet. He managed to reach it with only leaning on half of the furniture between him and the closet doors. And he was mostly upright. He was starting to wonder if Gabe swapped bottles on him. That was just port, right?
He pulled open the closet and remembered his socks were wrong. Too thick for dress shoes. And he was reaching for the chest of drawers that occupied one side. Tugging open the top drawer, he saw them. Two boxes of vastly different size and quality nestled beside his socks. One made of wood that had once been a gift from parent to child. The other, much smaller, once held an Old World watch.
Staring down at them, he forgot why he'd come in there. He forgot about the socks. And the shoes. The friend who was likely already bounding into the NeedWant. The woman he was supposed to see. "...Connor..." he breathed out, reaching down to touch the smaller of the two boxes.