Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
"I mean, y'said I died in his...world, or whatever. 's gonna be a shock for botha us." It's a bit too revealing of a statement in his opinion, though nobody else would call it vulnerable aside from him. At least it's spoken with the same easy nonchalance as everything else.
Letting himself in, he kicks off his shoes before the reminder is even spoken and his chest burns as he stares down at the discarded leather boots. God, some things just don't change huh? Bart's gonna have to resign himself to feeling this way, it probably isn't gonna stop anytime soon. Not when Nate's personality is written all across this house even with just a flick of his dark gaze.
Distracted by the furry little creature that comes stomping up with a growl, Bart raises both eyebrows at it, stamping down the urge to kick it because fuck that ain't no chihuahua, it has fucking wings. Masterfully he doesn't, and soon it's butting up against him eagerly. Squatting, Bartholomew awkwardly offers his hand. "Don't bite me, whatever you are," he grumbles mostly to himself as he waits to see what it will do with the offered appendage.
Only then does he stand, awkward and out of place but too cocksure to show it. He doesn't take off the jacket - refuses to, really. A little rain won't hurt him, and if it gets on Scarface's couch he doesn't rightly care. That's where he topples down first, legs akimbo as his gaze finds the fire Sunjata is working on. "So, how long y'all been married?" He needs to figure out how nice he needs to be to this dude.
Letting himself in, he kicks off his shoes before the reminder is even spoken and his chest burns as he stares down at the discarded leather boots. God, some things just don't change huh? Bart's gonna have to resign himself to feeling this way, it probably isn't gonna stop anytime soon. Not when Nate's personality is written all across this house even with just a flick of his dark gaze.
Distracted by the furry little creature that comes stomping up with a growl, Bart raises both eyebrows at it, stamping down the urge to kick it because fuck that ain't no chihuahua, it has fucking wings. Masterfully he doesn't, and soon it's butting up against him eagerly. Squatting, Bartholomew awkwardly offers his hand. "Don't bite me, whatever you are," he grumbles mostly to himself as he waits to see what it will do with the offered appendage.
Only then does he stand, awkward and out of place but too cocksure to show it. He doesn't take off the jacket - refuses to, really. A little rain won't hurt him, and if it gets on Scarface's couch he doesn't rightly care. That's where he topples down first, legs akimbo as his gaze finds the fire Sunjata is working on. "So, how long y'all been married?" He needs to figure out how nice he needs to be to this dude.
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear
let weakness disappear
BARTHOLOMEW
