nothing is real

text: can’t decide if I wanna get drunk or not

Text: Brett || Sam

text: I’m glad to be back. Then again it’s not like it was all play and no work while I was away.

text: I’d say you’re right. Your place? I’m working late, but I can stop by when I’m done. 

text: True. But I know you aren’t all business all of the time. Like 80/20 ;)

text: How is it being back? Did you have a good time?

“I know you’d just be fooling around if you called me a loser . No biggie.” He chuckled and buckled. The playful smile grew as he heard how the couch got broken. There was another laugh. “I know how that is. Pip and I have broken a few pieces of furniture by rough housing too much. Ma was not happy with us when we broke the couch.” Dax fondly remembered the time he and Pip were wrestling and broke the family couch when they were younger, then the time the chair got broken when they played nerf guns in the house with their older brother. “I’m doing great. How are you?”

It had been a minute since Sam had driven, and they felt bad as they cut off some now irate SUV driver, but time was of the essence. Sam waved and sped up a little as they headed towards their friend. Windows were down and music was blaring, because who could drive without music? Not Sam. 

With a flash of their blinker, the tattooed man pulled up to the curb in front of Dax’s building, turning the music down as they smiled and unlocked the car. Leaning over to see the other, Sam smirked, pulled down the shades they were wearing, and called out, “Get in fam, we’re going shopping.” 

Ace nods, “I like that idea,” he relaxes a tad bit as the bartender starts to make their drinks. Ace watches for a bit before he turns to Sam, giving him his attention. “their loss,” he says, “needed a drink and some company,” he shrugs. “Breakup aftermath,” he explains a bit, “still in recovery, i guess” he shrugs.