A white blank page..

He waves the bartender down for another drink because now he needs something to occupy him. He sips at it a bit (frowning slightly because he should have specified something different from the beer from before) before speaking again.

“I’m only disappointed ‘cause…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to be suave again, “I mean, it wouldn’t be good if yo–er–the other party member wasn’t having very much fun.”

Charlie decides it’s a good idea to put his drink to his mouth again. Stop him from speaking.

“Fitting?”

     An eyebrow is quirked slightly at that, but he shakes his head -- waving it off. Maybe he’ll ask about that later, but,. for now, Matt’s far more interested in watching Charlie’s lips against the rim of the beer.

“Smooth.”

     The man’s voice is amused when he speaks up again. He offers a slight shrug, sipping at his own drink before replying.

“I’m Charlie, by the way,” he offered a small smile to the stranger, drumming his fingers on the table, unsure what else to do without a drink in his hand.

Matt shrugs a bit. “If you’re curious, do it. My experience shouldn’t stop you from following your dreams.”

For a moment, he hesitates. His name isn’t exactly well known, outside of oddly specific internet chunks and the crime circles within the city, but it’s out there. Hm.

“So what’s that you’re drinking?” he starts, “’Cause it might just be the closest I get to a pretty thing like you.” Charlie tries to keeps his embarrassed wince to himself.

In the few moments that Peake had spaced out, the pretty man disappeared from his vision. Huh. That’s.. that sucks, he decides, glancing up at the voice he registered was speaking to him. Oh. Maybe it doesn’t suck so much.

The flush on his cheeks is absolutely exclusively from the alcohol.

“Can you stop shedding feathers in the shower? Or at least clean them up afterwards?”

“Sorry about my cat. she/he really, really likes feathery things.”

“Hold on, your feathers are looking a bit disheveled. Want me to straighten them out for you?”

“Can you actually… use those things?”

“Oh my god. You have wings.”

“How is this even possible?”

“Hey, what’s up with your back? You look like a professional olympic swimmer on steroids.”

“You flew for six hours? Come here, you’re getting a back rub.” 

“Did someone try and pluck a feather again? Are they dead?”

“What on earth happened to you? Have your wings been trimmed? Wh- are you ok?!”

“…Where are your wings? What happened to you?”

“So, like… do you just cut holes in your clothes and stuff?”

“Underwear must be confusing.”

And I would be absolutely fuckin’ delighted to help you figure that out. You know my doors are always open to you.

Feel free to use but please reblog if you do :)