#lonely-outcasts

Luc shrugged. “Nothing that should concern you.” But the tone of his voice showed he wouldn’t mind rather changing the subject.

@lonely-outcasts

“We’re about to close the shop for the night,” Samuel says just as someone stepped into the shop in a hurry, no doubt trying to find shelter from the rain outside. He frowns at how they dripped water onto the floor, he just did a good sweeping after all. A black cat sits up in interest at the unfamiliar face, tail lightly twirling. Sam didn’t have a good feeling, though. “I’m sorry, but you have to leave.”

After studying in the library for five hours, and having not slept in over twenty four, Jareth was exhausted. It was becoming exceedingly difficult to stay awake and alert. Sighing, he got up from his chair in one of the private study rooms and began doing jumping jacks to wake himself up. After tiring of that, he began making overly expressive faces to wake up the muscles in his face, and singing in a dramatic operatic-type tone. Feeling like it was kind of working, he continued, forgetting to be watchful for anyone that would pass by. Stopping once he caught a face staring at him, he chuckled in embarrassment before awkwardly stepping out of his study room so that the person could hear him. “Hi... I’m Jareth. I’m not insane, I promise. I’m a grad student studying for finals that hasn’t slept in 29 hours...” His smile fell as he became serious. “Please don’t call the cops.”

     In a shoddy attempt to distract himself from Alex’s drilling stare, he focuses more on his battered fingers and curls them a knuckle at a time. Judging by the slight wince in his expression, they’re still pretty sore. “--- Just so you know, ‘chillax’ was a thing in the early 2000s. It’s not totally obscure, so... chillax.”

     “--- No reason.” That’s a flat-out lie. One thing to know about Dallas is that there’s always a method to his madness. Even the most reckless, most impulsive decision works as a catalyst for a result he’s already thought through a thousand times. Sounds a lot like manipulation, sure, but it’s not a strategy based around malicious intent, by any means. It’s simply the primary functioning of an over-analytical, over-receptive mind. “Look, I don’t know why you’re makin’ a big deal out of this, but... chillax, okay?” He shifts the half-melted ice pack over his knuckles, further hiding the swollen bruises. “I’ve got my big boy pants on like everyone else.”