SHINE ON

Plus, a dual-apartment party sounds so wild. She will not be missing out on that.

CJ frowned and his expression wavered for a moment into that of confusion. He peeled his eyes away from Merritt's grin to focus on his own thoughts, looking off to the side as he combed through the entire conversation from beginning to end- the present- to catch up to Merritt's train of thought. How in the hell did the topic change from kissing to an orgy?

" Wait-"

CJ sat back and brought his hands up, palms out, in defense, and he gave Merritt and pleading look unlike the ones he gives Devon when he wants to get his way. " Okay, what the fuck are we talking about right now? I don't..." the start of his rebuttal trailed off, already weakened by the confusing whirlwind inside his head. Wavy brown hair. Thick smoke. Then in a different frame, a sly smile, his own blushing cheeks.

"What?"

It's said without any sharpness or snark, a genuine question of curiosity when Marlowe lays eyes on CJ. They think they saw him looking, or he might've been looking past them. Either way...

He watched people trickle in, more so exponentially as they neared the announced show time. Some he recognized, a hand raised every once in a while in a friendly greeting while others only earned a tight-lipped smile. He wondered if most of the early arrivers came to watch the openers or to secure their spot for the main performance. Probably the latter.

CJ's services were rendered complete yet he still lingered, unable to refuse his manager's request to stay and watch the show. He had only meant to step outside for a quick smoke when he realized that Marlowe stood right by the door, playing security or guardian or whatever other hat they decided to don on that night.

He made sure to leave his 'devil horns' in the car, refusing to do any sort of car work in them. Honestly, if he didn't know he'd feel really bad for not wearing them after his friend was so nice to let him borrow hem, Dario would've just left them at home entirely. He didn't look like a devil, nor an angel, he felt like he just looked ridiculous. Had it not been for CJ asking him to this afterparty at the Stone's house then he would not be going at all, in fact he was half tempted to tell the other that he wanted to go back home. But he didn't. Truthfully, as much as he didn't feel like being social, he was glad for an excuse to be around CJ. Even if it's been a bit confusing for him to be around the other for too long...it still felt nice.

"No, uh, you hadn't told me that. Okay. I'll make sure to take good care of it." He isn't too sure why the thought of not returning with CJ feels weird to him, but it does. The smoke coming from CJ's hood was an easy distraction from that feeling and Dario welcomes the uncertainty of the car issue over wherever his mind was trying to take him.

"Doc? I would hardly call myself that, man." He chuckled, watching as CJ popped the hood open, "I used to go with my old man to the shop he worked at when I was younger, just picked up a few things here and there." He stepped closer, getting beneath CJ and the hood, his eyes scanning the engine and various car parts. "He'd always say..." His voice deepens, trying to mimic his father's tone. " Dario, a car's kind of like a person. If something's wrong, it'll show you—just not always in the way you expect." He leans forward a bit, as if he's trying to listen, really, he's just trying to get a better view of the engine. He checks the oil level, which seems fine. "Hm." Then he opens another compartment, peeking in for a good minute in silence, nodding to himself.

"You just have to slow down," he continued, turning around to face the other, "and pay attention to the little changes." From this angle CJ really did look like an angel just hovering over him, holding the hood up from completely crushing him. "You just have to be willing to be patient enough to want to understand the confusing bits, who knows what new things you'd discover." He wanted to add something else, it was right there, but instead he just let his lips curl into his signature crooked grin. It was the best defense he had. "Luckily, CJ, the issue with your car isn't confusing at all." He leaned in a bit, reaching out to playfully poke CJ's chest, "you're just low on coolant."

He ducks to slip out from beneath CJ, not because he wanted to, because he felt his mind trying to wander if he didn't. And this was not the time to let himself think too much. Right now, they needed to get CJ's car up and running again. From his new angle, however, Dario was able to get a better view of CJ in his angel outfit, he couldn't help the way his smile softened a bit. His lip's part, wanting to tell CJ he looked good, really good, if only he had that courage, instead he ends up softly clearing his throat.

CJ stood frozen behind him and tried his best not to allow the quiver in his forearms to unfurl to the rest of his frame, which came and went whenever Dario approached too close in his examination. As someone who handed his keys to the closest mechanic shop at the first sign of trouble, CJ could only watch in confusion as his neighbor rummaged through the ashen compartments, hands undoubtedly speckled with soot and warm to the touch from the hot engine. His eyes were glued to the back of Dario's neck and he nodded along to the story despite knowing that Dario wouldn't be able to witness his rapt attention unless he were to turn his head-

-and he turned and CJ, for some reason overcome with gratitude he never felt before, smiled brightly. Genuinely, for once. Here stood Dario, a stranger, really, hands deep into his ailing car without so much as a complaint, sputtering nonsense comparisons between vehicles and people. Except, his words weren't nonsensical at all and CJ felt himself enter a contemplative state with Dario's guidance.

" Slow down and pay attention to the changes, you say?"

CJ craned his head, deep in thought, and only returned to reality when Dario's hair tickled his arm when he stepped away from the open hood. What about the changes between them, then? He might be able to slow down, to recount the days leading up to the basement party and the days that followed. He might force a patience that he usually lacked just to understand their newfound and confusing dynamic, but would he actually discover something? CJ feared that he'll come away empty and still just as confused as when he began.

CJ righted his head and lowered the hood, pushing it down until he heard a loud click. He shook his head, idle hands mechanically sliding into the empty front pockets of his pants.

" Nothing in the trunk. Pretty sure I had a bottle at some point but you know how I hate messes- I think I tossed it or something."

CJ shrugged his shoulders, dropped them in defeat, and sighed dramatically. He looked around as if an actual angel might lower from a triangle of diffused bright light and save his poor stranded car. He waited a second, just in case.

Seriously, what higher power in the universe decided to surround her with all of these pseudo-brothers? Dragging her around ( figuratively and sometimes literally ) into shenanigans. Granted, she doesn't put up much of a fight when they say just the right thing to convince her, but still...

She wouldn't trade any of them for the world.

Despite her verbal rebellion, as tiny and unsuccessful as it was, she is bouncing on her toes as CJ readies their shots. Until she realizes that two-count turns to four, and she smacks him in the arm. "Slow down! I had vodka, and now you're making me mix with two shots of Henny?"

Back to the aforementioned dragging into shenanigans...

Dev sighs and takes the cup. "Fine, but if this tips me over into hangover territory for tomorrow, you better be ready to trek through our Ohio version of Alaska to find me Pedialyte. I don't care if the pharmacy is closed, you're breaking in."

She taps the rim of her cup to his, then brings it down to tap the bottom of it to the table, and she throws it back, grimacing, and nearly choking as it goes down with a burn.

CJ could only foolishly grin even as a lighthearted slap landed on his bicep; his arm jerked from the force and sloshed his own overfilled cup until the contents dripped down his hand. There was no doubt in his head that Devon was strong, having been once bruised on the forehead with a single flick of her middle finger during a heated game of Guess Who. Granted, it was CJ's own undoing that he always felt so loose and weakened around her, the easiest prey to her antics and whims. The wind blew and CJ allowed himself to be carried with it because he trusted it to carry him to better places. To him, Devon was that wind.

" Oh please, it's not my fault all the vodka finished. I actually didn't even have any." CJ retorted back against her complaint of mixing liquors- a total lie since he was one of the first to crack open one of those bottles.

CJ rolled his eyes at that as he tilted his cup to meet hers, soundless but still ritualistic. He downed his own, gulp after gulp as if he was washing down a greasy meal with ice cold beer instead of drinking from a cup of hard liquor. But it went down just as easy, thanks to the practice through the years. For a time, CJ had grown obsessed with being able to take his alcohol without a show of disgust or pain from his burning throat, and he would sit in front of a mirror, taking shot after shot until his reflection doubled or until he became satisfied with his expression. CJ wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after he set his cup down on the table.

CJ realized halfway through the dimly-lit walk from his assigned parking spot to the apartment building that he should have parked in one of the temporary visitor lots directly in front of the main entrance. Even February couldn't wait to get the hell out of Colossal from their recent grim weather, dark skies and foggy nights, puffs of his breath followed him as he walked. This entire trek and he'll still end up back inside his car in less than an hour, less if his hair cooperated. It wasn't as if a high definition camera trailed him around as he went about his day to publicly display this one little selfish act to the rest of the town. Right? CJ looked up at the balconies and street side windows to see if anyone would have spotted him if he betrayed his upstanding citizen act and had momentarily parked in the visitor spot.

A figure stood beside the door and that alone validated CJ's choice; but that prideful giddiness slowly diminished as CJ approached their backlit silhouette and recognized the all-too-familiar contemptuous expression that only CJ would have been able to catch before Harvey masked it for his usual charming friendliness. Unfortunately for Vee (but a field day for CJ), he just happened to be a little too pissed off and a lot too late to entertain the congeniality charade where they act as if they'd take a bullet for the other. CJ reached for the door just as Vee also extended a hand out, already clasped around the handle due to his proximity. CJ dropped his hand and stood still in front of him, not yet giving Vee the satisfaction of utilizing his unnecessary act of service. Seriously, who asked him to start a conversation and hold the door open just for him? Now CJ had to extend his gratitude or risk looking like a petulant jackass.

" You? An angel? Pretty sure there's not enough room in heaven for all of us." CJ eyed the halo suspiciously, as if the lights might just morph into devil horns right before his eyes. Yet he still smiled at Vee, fully innocuous and completely insincere.

How could he top this? How could he be better?

CJ passed through the gateway and turned on his heals to look at Vee, still by the door.

"And thanks. Want to come in? Compare apples to apples? Maybe we'll figure out which one of us should be getting booted from heaven when it gets full."

Even if he tried to recount how it happened, Dario still doesn’t know how he ended up as a passenger in CJ’s car heading to the Stone’s after party. He’s usually skating to these things, headphones on, streetlights streak passing by in golden flashes, rolling up with windburned cheeks and a grin. He’s not complaining, not even a little, just silently surprised that he’s riding shotgun. For Dario, sitting shotgun feels…kinda nice, actually. As he rests his elbows on the door, fingers tapping absentmindedly along to the music, he stole a glance in CJ’s direction. He debated for a moment in whether or not to break the silence, unsure he wanted to remind CJ that he was the one in the passenger seat instead of someone else.

“Hey, CJ,” Dario says, finally making up his mind, fully looking at him. He was about to thank him for giving him a ride tonight, then insist that he doesn’t have to keep being nice to him. Insist that despite their shared moment at Sit and Spin during the last party they didn’t have to suddenly become friends. Insist that CJ didn’t have to force himself to be around Dario more now just because they kissed. Was it a kiss? Sure their lips had met, and it felt like a kiss, but he was not too sure if that’s what it really was. Because he remembers his first kiss ever, with Easy, and how it all felt so similar to that moment. Smoking, lost in the haze of it all, and suddenly that shared moment changed the course of their friendship even to this day.

“I-…” His words trial off as he starts to smell something weird, brows immediately knit together in concern. “What’s that smell?” Dario asked, forgetting all about whatever he was about to say, looking forward again, his question answered by the smoke coming out from the hood of CJ’s car. Maybe this was a sign that he really shouldn’t be going to this party. Or maybe he was just cursed and this was his fault somehow. “Pull over, man. Pop open the hood. Let me see what the heck is going on.” It was practically second nature to Dario when things involved cars, one of the things he’s carried with him that his dad taught him growing up. Luckily the smoke was white, which didn’t necessarily mean something bad.

It wasn't compulsion that led CJ across the shared hall to Dario's apartment, one reluctant foot after another, to knock on his door despite knowing full well that it was already unlocked for him to enter anytime- but CJ certainly didn't plan for it. He thought Dario might have been long gone by the time CJ returned from his bout of errands ( and then deciding to stay for the concert...'decide' certainly being the wrong word... more like forced) but the lights were on behind the curtains and CJ realized that Dario would either be late to the afterparty or simply not attend. For some reason, the thought of not seeing Dario at the Stone's house bothered him; like he was a missing puzzle piece that was misplaced then forgotten.

He suggested driving together in front of Dario's door without entering, the angel wings strapped to his back a hassle at the doorframe and he proceeded to leave Dario there to finish any last minute touches while CJ drove his car up to the front of their door. Passenger side window rolled down, CJ watched Dario walk up to the car dressed in black, attention immediately drawn to the only splatter of red atop his head, contrasted against his dark hair. Cat ears! He snorted as Dario entered, eyes still on the red ears while he closed his door and settled in. Not that they were exceptionally interesting, but they did serve CJ in avoiding to look into Dario's eyes directly.

" I don't know if I told you this yet but car is yours if you end up leaving early or anything. I won't be driving it back."

It was the best he could do for now: avoid direct eye contact, maintain a casual neutrality, and no matter what happens, absolutely avoid smoking alone together. The straps of his wings tightened against his shoulders whenever CJ turned the wheel and a permanent wince contorted his face throughout the drive. He just hoped Dario wouldn't mistake the negative expression as being directed toward him.

His eyes were glued on the road, but CJ still half-turned his head to signal Dario that he was listening," yeah?"

" What... what is it?" Then a scowl, this time intentional and unrelated to his uncomfortable attire. CJ sniffed the air harshly in search of the odd scent while he shifted gears and slowed the car to the right side of the empty road. They were close enough to Merritt's house in case anything happened but CJ felt calm even without that certainty. There was no one he trusted more than his companion when it pertained to vehicles. CJ turned off the engine but kept the keys inside the switch, in the event that Dario needed a quick start. He followed Dario outside and to the front of his popped hood, fully lifting the cover for him, wings, halo, and all. CJ remained there, arm stretched out above Dario's head as he held up the hood, his car lacking the prop rod.

reading is frankie's favorite way to pass time during shifts, and considering her growing inability to sit with her own thoughts for too long, she goes through books pretty fast. such is her luck today, but at least she has a good excuse to close a little early, determined to do some browsing at paperweight before they close today. the chance of running into a friend is another bonus... though, since this is frankie, it's less chance and more certainty. frankie knows casey is working tonight, but instead of seeking him out when she walks in, she lingers behind bookcases, enjoys just watching him work as much as she enjoys skimming over titles on the book spines.

when frankie is confident she's the last customer inside, at least for now, she steps around a bookcase near the cash register and clears her throat. she studies him, trying to decide if he knew her presence before she revealed herself. he has a way of knowing her, anticipating her actions. it makes her feel worth seeing.

CJ knew that he'd be staying late that day a full two hours prior when Mathew, his parents' chatty old neighbor, beelined to CJ as soon as he walked inside Paperweight, dragging a rusted wagon behind him. Of course, his shitty luck had to strike just once more before the day ended, and on top of his list of closing tasks, Mathew decided to ignore the other two employees because CJ "certainly wouldn't con him" due to their friendliness with each other. CJ took one look at the number of books about to spill from the wagon and passed an innocent smile to the man- 'go to hell and sell your books to Satan himself, you old fart' but what came out instead was a rather pleasant "of course, Matt. Just come by tomorrow for your cash back? Okay- yeah, I know- don't worry, you'll get a fair price. I'll do the appraisal myself."

That's how he found himself alone, his coworkers clocked out for the day, the baristas already gone- only the scent of freshly ground coffee still lingered throughout the floor. A few customers straggled behind, idle and distracted in between the shelves and no one seemed to need his help; or perhaps they were deterred, sensing his foul mood radiating from behind the checkout counter as he looked through each book in Mathew's cart, a price sticker placed on the front page as he finished with one. The sun sat low on the horizon, washing the store in elongated shadows from the maze of bookshelves. CJ looked up every time the door opened, welcoming a cool breeze inside felt by CJ in his position behind the cash register.

She walked in and the books spread out atop the counter became obsolete, his job long forgotten in favor of tracking her flit about inside the store, discreetly following her from one bookshelf to another. He pretended not to notice, feigned immersion with his work until she announced herself in front of him with a clearing of her throat. Unhurried and wearing a mask of relaxed charm, CJ placed his pen down and closed the book (praying it wasn't upside down in his poor attempt at appearing too busy to notice her) as he regarded her coolly. The sky outside had darkened considerably and despite the store's grim lighting, the sight of her bright face somehow dried up his throat and CJ coughed to mask the too-long minute he spent in admiring her high set cheekbones and the curve of her jaw as her mouth moved while she spoke.

" Coffee? No one is here from- actually never mind. I can make you something." He stepped behind the counter and made his way to her as he said this, unable to help himself from stopping in front of her for just a second before he continued a slow backward walk to Fast Breaks, their height difference apparent in this momentary pause.

Merritt leans back against the vinyl covering of the booth - crisply wiped and beautifully kept, as all of them are, as all of them will be as long as Merritt's in charge - and nods emphatically as a picture-perfect listener might. Then, at CJ's anxiously-charged questions, she shakes her head just as vehemently.

"Nooo, no. No one's talking about that, I promise." The truth in all of its potentially unwanted glory. "Like, if you're worried about it, or like, you want to throw a party, then you should totally throw a party, but no one's like," Merritt lazily pitches her voice up as though to imitate one of the many Colossal residents who sound like a tinny valley girl, "Oh, man, God, I really wish CJ would throw a party at his apartment I've like, been thinking about it non-stop since he moved back."

Pulled by the concept of a little kickback that she doesn't have to clean up after, Merritt leans all the way forward, her elbows on the table and framing the big plate of pasta that no one's going to eat. "Now... If you want to throw a party to like, cure your winter saddies... Then we can fucking throw a party. Especially if it means you aren't going to go all gloom-head on me during my thirty at work."

He's spurred into a carefree smile- it always somehow creeps on around Merritt. It seems that she had popped into his life from nowhere and somehow turned it around for the better, curing that 'only child for nearly 12 years' syndrome in her wake. Layer by layer, he peeled off his mask and the thought of revealing himself fully wasn't so daunting when he thought of Merritt standing front and center among the crowd.

Not only was he unable to voice this inane question to anyone else, but CJ doubted he would be convinced by the answers given from others, notorious by his suspicions. Liars breed skepticism, it seemed.

He leaned against the table, arms rigid and hands folded as a rest for his chin. He noticed that mischievous glint in Merritt's eyes, famous for unwarranted fortune readings and patiently waiting for the sun to rise while he, Merritt, and Frankie uncorked bottle after another bottle to elongate their wine-drunk fits of laughter. But what Merritt suggested would not be contained to their trio but something larger, contagious and uncontrolled, where CJ had to mind his laugh, his comments, his mannerism, his clothes, his decoration, -oh god, what if someone saw his cologne collection...

But she looked so excited, and it was CJ that brought it up, and so he smiled back, feigning excitement with raised brows and a natural grin. He had perfected his technique at that point.

For effect.

It's a mock gasp, her offense isn't sincere, nor is her jab, "Sure, sure, try and pin blame on me rather than face your inadequacies. That's the way to go." She doesn't mean it for the most part. She can't, because CJ is right. Her shoulder bumped him in a way that definitely knocked him off balance.

At least he relents— or so she thinks.

"A scaredy cat? Excuse you, I just don't feel particular eager to be a dancing monkey in this spontaneous circus, just because we're snowed in." One beat, then another, and she sinks in her chair. "Okay, fine. Maybe— big maybe— after my next drink, I'll be more inclined to be part of the entertainment."

He could only roll his eyes at her mock pique, taking it as lightly as it came. He only had to take it for a few more words until he finally saw the green light ahead. 'Maybe'. That's all he needed. CJ shot out of his seat, dragging Devon along with him for surety, his hand firmly clasped around his forearm. He only released her when they walked the short distance to the cooler, placed conveniently beside the table of glass bottles, most already empty.

He tried not to grin too wide as to not show his smug victory. Afterall, he knew his roommate well enough to know how to push her buttons covertly. While he never succeeded in getting Devon to do anything she didn't already want to do, he at least could push her into a tentative maybe. The right mood, the right time, the right drink, and Devon was about ready to jump off a cliff on a dare if CJ played his cards right. Granted, she'd never actually go through with it without CJ jumping alongside her. Probably being the only one screaming on the way down, too.

"So what, you're just posted up here acting like a bridge troll all night?" It's not a scathing burn, and isn't said as such - Easy's tired and sex-loose enough that it'll take more than this to get CJ under his skin - but there's a bite to it that always appears when they end up alone together. "Keep your sweater on, man. You'll need it if you're sleeping in here all night."

At that, Easy pauses. The guy looks well and fucked up, but not sleep on the Limericks bathroom floor fucked up.

Not a moment went by without CJ pretending to be something, to be someone, especially around Easy. For one reason or another, CJ's sham only heightened around the man. A lifelong stranger, really. CJ knew as much about Easy as the other knew him and so the charade continued until CJ chipped bits and pieces off of Easy; enough to assemble a tangible mosaic, in which he has failed at so far and it will probably remain an unfinished work until they're old and still ever so bitter.

But the troll bridge comparison, now that pulled a genuine laugh out of him, deep enough that CJ's shoulder violently shook as the laugh rolled off of them. He must either be crazy or still a little drunk. Both probably, why else would he still entertain Easy for this long.

Dario tilted his head as the question turned back on him, the corner of his mouth lifting in that easy, lopsided way it always did—even when he didn’t realize it. He gave a small shrug, shoulders rolling loose under his jacket. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice thoughtful, the words coming slow like he was turning them over before letting them go. “I was just curious. Some people aren’t comfortable stepping out of their usual routines—music genres included.” His gaze drifted briefly, then returned to CJ. “I kinda love meeting people like that, though. Makes me wonder if I can introduce them to something new… and if not, I wanna know what keeps them planted where they are instead of exploring everything else that’s out there. Music-wise. Or, you know. In general.”

CJ’s words land softly but heavy all at once, and Dario exhales through a quiet smile, nodding as he lets them settle. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s…actually a really good way to put it.” His eyes unfocus for a second, like he’s picturing it—the endless blue, all that possibility just sitting there, waiting. “Some people don’t even realize they’re surrounded by it. They get comfy on the floaties and forget they can swim.” He looks back at CJ then, gentler around the edges, warmth in his gaze that feels unguarded. “I think most of us are scared to really dive in,” he admits. “Like—what if you try and it turns out you’re not as good as you hoped? Or what if you are good, and now you have to figure out what to do with that?” A soft, crooked laugh slips out. “Both are kinda terrifying.” His eyes linger on CJ for just a second. “But the fact that you even see it like that?” He shrugs lightly. “I’d say that already puts you ahead of a lot of people.”

When CJ suggests leaving the party to their own music, Dario blinks once, caught off guard, it takes his brain a second to catch up. When it does, he breaks into a warm, crooked grin. “Yeah—of course, that sounds like a great idea,” he says, nodding easily. “But you have to pick some stuff too, okay?” His hand finds Rent, lifting it with a hopeful glance back at CJ. “I’ll try not to sing all the numbers,” he adds under his breath, laughing softly. “I promise.” The contact when they exchanged the joint was brief, barely there, but it left a faint electric hum trailing up Dario’s arm, little sparks that made his thoughts stutter.  

And then CJ leaned in and placed the joint between Dario’s lips. The world shrank to the careful press of CJ’s fingers, and the warmth of his nearness. He blinked once, slow, smoke already stinging, then gently closed his lips around the joint to hold it steady. When CJ stepped back and brushed his hair forward over his eyes, Dario just stood there a second—joint dangling, crooked grin spreading lazy and stoned. “A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card,” he quoted, voice muffled around the joint, grin growing wider. “When you only care enough to send the very best.” He laughed under his breath, soft and easy. “How’s that?”

With pursed lips, CJ's gaze drifted down in thought, and with a low mutter, more so meant for himself and his own self-reflection rather than be heard by Dario-" yeah, I know all about routines." He looked up after appearing satisfied with his prompt study of the shop's floor. Would you look at that, the staff must have deep-cleaned recently. Probably spurred on by the manager before the long-awaited departure.

Their gazes converged back within the same timeline and CJ held onto the contact for much longer this time, placid for once, indulgent toward his first reactions, first thoughts, first responses- without his usual scrutiny. Normally, CJ would have become too weary that his eyes continued to drift down to Dario's lips; wrapped around the joint, in motion from their conversation, lopsided and flashing pearly whites. The high made him generous and CJ was determined to satiate his curiosity through a subject study. He never paid much attention to Dario, too caught up in everyone else. Too caught up in himself.

CJ caught himself in his unexpected astonishment and before he could preen from the considerate compliments thrown at his feet, CJ cleared his throat to break whatever soothing spell Dario placed him under. Dario took his comment to an entirely different direction than CJ intended, not in a bad way, but it forced CJ to force his discernment well enough to be able to reply, a feat that somehow came easily when Dario's subdued articulation coaxed him into a state of reflection. " I'd say the same thing about you. Dissecting people then offering a remedy. That would put you way ahead. Especially compared to those like me that just dissect and judge the insides. Not that I mean to, you know... everyone has their own tastes." He watched the evolution of Dario's signature lopsided grin in reaction to CJ's antics, the joint bobbed in between his lips as he spoke, quoting a line from what he could only assume to be Grease. In fact, none of what CJ 'confessed' to just minutes earlier actually happened and CJ himself didn't know why the lie slipped out from him so effortlessly; seems as if habits were hard to bypass, even when one was loose and affable from the effects of marijuana. He never tore down the posters, he never auditioned, and he actually has never seen the musical before, despite it's fame. So CJ only smiled and nodded in return, hopeful that the lack of a reaction wasn't as foretelling as CJ thought.

But the fear evaporated, the guilt of the lie along with it, when he felt fingers at his chin and the joint back on his lips, the corner of his mouth still tingling from the elusive contact. It shocked him for a moment and CJ held his breath as he stared at Dario, mind racing as he second-guessed their interactions thus far. CJ had only been playful and he briefly wondered if the usually unserious man imitated that playfulness or took a gamble with something more risky. Was CJ simply reading the signs wrong? The joint burned while CJ stood frozen, inching closer to burn his lips and he realized he only had a few more seconds to act.