* PEYTON +
Peyton exhaled at his questions. Usually, she’d lash out of storm off but to be frank she wasn’t sure that she could make it anywhere without a great amount of assistant. The irony of the situation was that she wouldn’t have made it outside without him so she had to be grateful despite gracious wasn’t exactly her style. “Yes, I am. Don’t go feeling special.” Brat. It was a term she’d grown familiar with beside the outspoken, powerful female she was. Perhaps it was easier to call her a brat than something much harsher. So maybe brat was a more polite term. “It’s not wise to go offering your friendship so aimlessly, M–” Peyton challenged him, searching for his name in the same way he had. Anyone Angel chose to be friends with must have been a good person but it was unlike Peyton to let someone exist without teasing and ridicule. A passing second of mere sobriety washed over her, putting her in her place. The girl cozied up on the brick wall beside him, looking up at his tan features. “So, what are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the luxurious club type. Not in like a poor way – but in a distasteful waste of time kind of way.”
“ sage, ” the male informs, finding amusement in the way she mocks him but decidedly keeping that to himself. ( her ego was already big enough. ) banter was more or less a sport to sage, and something he was quite decent at, though he rarely got to put it in practice. people, especially women, tended to be sensitive to harsh words, even if they were meaningless. broad shoulders will lift into a shrug. “ eh, aimlessness is kind of my thing. ” an understatement ! one might go as far as to say that his every move was pointless, without purpose. but of course, it was to his own accord, and perhaps that made it less depressing. “ same as you, i bet. ” looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, in all her drunken stupor. was it sick that he found it endearing ? alcohol was one of the few vices that could bridge the gap between someone like peyton, and someone like himself. hence how fond of it he was. there was no telling how different this interaction would’ve played out if he’d been on the same level as her. “ i’ll try to take that as a compliment. you’re not wrong, though --- i’m not super into clubs. just needed a change in environment, i guess. i’m sure they’re getting sick of me at the graveyard. ” in truth, the male found solace in losing himself in settings such as the golden standard, where waves of strangers could swallow him whole. for it was here that he could go unnoticed, that his actions lacked in consequence. he was liberated. he’ll twist tendrils around his index finger, unsure of what to do with his hands, especially with her looming proximity. “ don’t you ever get sick of places like this ? ”
