#vicenterosas

He knows that Vic’s bound to stop by at some point today- and it shouldn’t be distracting him as much as it has been from his work day. The pack leader has been carrying a laundry hamper to each empty room, grabbing up sheets and pillowcases and towels. It should be easy work… when he’s not forgetting what the hell he’s doing, wondering if he has any booze or something he and Vic can enjoy in the office. Or if he'd like to come back to his. Or maybe they could go out? 

He’s tugging a stained fitted sheet off an old mattress in one of the rooms when he sees Vic’s truck through the open door- losing all of his focus and balance, and slipping right onto his ass with a deep, rumbling laugh as he hits the floor. “H….Hola, guapo!” He calls, still chuckling as he gets himself up with a groan. His old denim shirt is tossed over a chair and he’s wearing his usual work pants and a dirty undershirt, hair back and out of his face in a bun. "You s...surprised me."

He's not used to being this dressed up, and Ash feels out of place. Did he get the smell of mothballs and stuffy old closet out of this suit he's had in a garment bag for years? Did he clean all the dirt and grease from the Cliffsides off his face, from under his fingertips? Does he look as tired as he always seems to feel?

Wine is free, and Ash knows this might be a problem later. Right now, he turns to a someone who looks vaguely familiar, even under that mask. His own stays in place, and he just releases a sigh, glancing at the other with a little grin. He tests it out - the language he's been covertly learning: "N-Nunca he... visto a ni...ninguno... de nosotros ...v-vestirse tan bien... antes."