#@ic3hawk

‘ is not good for your health, ’ he teased through his accent, a wiry smile settling on his lips. his eyes flicked to his companion, a quiet question drawing his brow together. he knew insisting on sleep applied to him just as much, but it was fun to tease. he leaned against the hotel bar booth, a fitted, lined jacket resting on his shoulders, a tight navy-blue shirt beneath it, a gold cross hanging at his clavicle. the winters in north america were not the coldest he had ever felt, but the vodka warming his palm helped. ‘ – and what is it that keeps mr. popular up? '