#pinfalles

rey helps him bring his bags in (he didn't need the help, but this, at least, he can attribute to the manners rey taught him to have rather than some poor attempt to condescend to him). it's the first time he's been inside the house in years. it looks familiar enough to make him uncomfortable, but his bedroom looks the exact same as always. they hadn't touched it through college, through training, through moving out on his own. obviously he's coming back. it was comforting, if a bit funny, when he was freshly eighteen, but it's irritating now, knowing he's proving them right. "figured angie would repaint the walls as soon as she could." the paint's a bright, bright blue from when he was five and rey insisted he choose his own room color. still the same.

“You, uh…you hear any kickback about it yet?” Mox doesn’t know where his phone is, and wherever it is, it’s doubtlessly dead. “I feel like it went as well as possible. Given everything else.”

he rolls his eyes before penta's even finished, mouth open, gum pressed between his tongue and the inside of his cheek. he's got like two inches on penta when he stands up straight, but he likes the casual energy of slouching, so he has to sacrifice that. penta's close enough for dom to discern his eyes, wild and enraged, from everything else he's got going on, but dom stays slouched. "you wanna do something about it, go ahead." he pops his gum, makes like he's checking the time on his phone. "make it quick though, i've got like eighty other guys begging for my belt and my time."

bronson knows that. every alliance he's ever crept into came with strings. fair's fair ; you take a few hits, swallow a few losses, and in the end, both of you end up better off, as long as you found the right person to trust. bronson doesn't trust widow as far as he could throw him. bronson thinks he could throw him pretty far, though, and it's this thought that's keeping him listening. "i don't like to waste time. you got something worth it for me?"

"what, you need ideas?" he's got his arms looped around cade's neck, one hand pressed firm against whichever muscle it is that makes up the upper back. he should know that, shouldn't he. look, he's on color commentary for a reason. he thinks he could give a good play-by-play now, though, if cade keeps looking at him like that. underneath isn't kai's favorite place to be, but it does make it easy to press his teeth against cade's collar and the rest of his body against anything he can reach. "making me do all the work. don't be lazy."

cade was already in the shower when kai woke up, and kai has an early call time for the pre-show, and anyways, he hadn't intended to spend the night and really needs to go back to his room as soon as possible. that runs through kai's head about half a second before it comes out of his mouth -- "i have an early call time, and you were in the shower, so i didn't think it made sense to wait around and talk. and anyways, i wasn't expecting to spend the night." it would've been pretty presumptuous to pack a bag when his room is only a floor down -- he showed up here in yesterday's clothes, nothing in his pockets but his phone and his room key. he reaches into those pockets now -- nothing in there but his phone. fuck. he needs to breathe. "we can talk. after the show, okay?"