#thread.patrick

Patrick wasn’t expecting to have a good time, which was probably a terrible outlook to have when he was on his way to a party, but he’d also never claimed to be a fountain of overflowing optimism. He knew himself, he knew Lara, and that was just about all he needed to guess that he’d be tapping out long before the night was over. Still, it was a good excuse to get out of his stuffy apartment and he didn’t mind celebrating with Lara, even if it meant spending an evening drifting aimlessly. He arrived empty-handed, because Patrick hadn’t exchanged presents for someone’s birthday since he was thirteen and seriously skinned his chin at Carter’s roller rink party. And, just as he’d expected, the warehouse was already full of people -- too many people -- and not a single face he recognized. Patrick wrangled in the downward tug of his lips, expression decidedly neutral as he wandered further in. His shoulders slouched, the action reflexive and unnoticed to him while he continued to skirt around the edge of the party, trying to spot Lara without enduring any solo introductions.

Patrick was rapidly realizing one very important thing: he had no idea how serious of a task grocery shopping was. He shook his head once, twice -- and a third time just for good measure while listening to Marlowe, trying to keep up with the twisted tale she was weaving. He could understand her position of impulsive decisions and even relate, considering that he never backed down from a fairly made dare. But then everything was confusingly tipped upside down again with the mention of a faceless husband, a teenager, and some kind of long con in the making. Was he suddenly at the center of a Gillian Flynn novel?

“Breaking into your own apartment because you forgot your keys is justifiable,” Patrick finally agreed, his head bobbing in a steady nod. “But,” he quickly continued, not wanting Marlowe to interject, “how do you know that she wasn’t just giving you a chance with the grocery shopping thing? ‘Cause, I mean, even if you only came home with three gallons of milk and white bread, I don’t think fucking up the pantry is enough of a reason to really evict a roommate.” He gave into a shrug, his palms dragging down the table’s surface as he leaned back in his seat once again. Despite how much he sounded like he was trying to talk her out of making a dumb decision, Patrick still made a move to stand. “I’ll help you bust into your place, but if Irene the batshit cunt appears at any moment, I’m out.”

“You’re kidding me.” Patrick’s dull, stubborn gaze was transfixed on the movie cover for Batman & Robin as the single rental copy was taken from behind it. He’d driven for over an hour, getting lost at every turn (fuck New York and fuck the grid system), all just to rent this shitty movie that was already in the hands of someone else. Someone else who... looked familiar? Unable to immediately place a name to the stranger’s face when he stopped frowning at the shelf of movies, he simply shook his head. “Are you seriously renting that movie?” Patrick pointed at the DVD in her hands, wanting to take it for himself. “It’s crap. You shouldn’t bother.”