— E A R T H Q U A K E

He finally switched on, not allowing his mind to wander away from the words that Gabe was speaking. He tongue stuck out slightly, lower lip dampening in thought. “I mean —” he begun, his head shaking. “No, that’s not true at all man. My parents have been married for forty years and they’re still as in love as ever, its because breakups are so romanticised these days that it just—” he shrugs a shoulder, words trailing off. 

RHYS: Ok. You're right. I'm lame.

“Maaaan—” Rhys responds, probably a little too enthusiastically. Grin covering his face. “I gotta try these. Little bag or not, we just gotta buy six bags.” 

Rhys paused, brow raising just a little before chuckling. “There’s gotta be somewhere in the city that sells em, right?” He asks, tongue moving to dampen his lower lip. “They sound damn good.” 

RHYS: Don't tell anybody that though.

Smirking widely at the blonde, he chuckled under his breath. “Always the charming one, aren’t you—” he was teasing, clearly apparent by the grin that covered his features. “Break you in half?” His brow cocked, clearly not totally understanding. “How’d you reckon I’d do that?” 

“I think she needs to lighten up—” he muses, expression on his face clearly teasing. He wasn’t remotely bothered about the situation, like water off of a ducks back. Rhys accepted she didn’t appreciate the humour and moved on. “Yeah? Yeah man, I’m good. Bit knackered lately but otherwise pretty decent.” 

Brow cocked and shrug rolling off of his shoulders, Rhys chuckled lightly, the corners of his mouth upturning ever so slightly. “Man, four bags of cheetos, ignore that snotty cashier, you’re livin’ the life.” 

“Uh—” Rhys paused for a moment, grin consuming his features as though debating whether or not Clarks question had been a serious one. “I mean, is that what you call it?” He asks, almost smoothly, as though he wasn’t fully aware of the joke he’d attempted to pull off. “That’s good—” he murmured, grin fading slightly into a less childlike expression. “I mean, I’m alright — I think I’ll just pull through. Thanks for the concern though, man.” 

“Dude—” Rhys spoke before pausing briefly, as though thinking up an acceptable response. “I think like — you gotta decide if you really want one, no rash choices an’ all that.” 

“And you’re as charming as ever, Freya.” He retorted simply, laughing to himself at the thought. “I thought it was pretty quick, don’t take this away from me!” Grinning, the male shrugged his shoulder. Lanford had gained a weird vibe, so many things unspoken over the past two weeks. “Yeah, I’m—” he shrugged again, “I’m good.” And he was, thankful in many respects, he’d had a lucky escape, looking after Arielle the night of the fire. “How’s work?” 

“So—” he begun, as though it was the beginning of a serious story. “The cashier at the grocery store told me to go away today.” Pulling a mock sad face, his arms folded over his chest, “she asked if I wanted to bag my milk and like, I just said nah, just leave it in the carton. — Cue a head shake and a go away Rhys. Mean right?” Grinning to himself, he paused, looking over at the other, pretty proud of his dad joke. “How’re you doing, anyway?” 

“Uh—” he murmured softly, attempting to visit one of his work colleagues who’d sadly got injured during the masquerade. “You could direct me towards room 103.”