#augustusstirk

He hadn’t expected another run-in with the artist as he returned back to the motel, but Chris was pleasantly surprised that it’d happened. He was much looser, now, crisp white shirt now unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a plastic cup held tightly in his hand. He hadn’t even remembered properly where he’d got it from–probably something he’d regret, if he thought too much about it. “Enjoy yourself, brother?” Chris mused as he sauntered towards the dark haired male, slinging an arm around the elder’s shoulders without much thought. He was clearly much further gone than normal, although his steps had yet to stray and his accent had only thickened just slightly with a slur. “Seems like you’re turning in early for the night.” @augustusstirk