he swallows and deposits the fifty dollar bill into one of his front pockets without breaking eye contact from the angel. it’s sort of hard to look away at all, and he’s a little embarrassed by it, but most of him says not to be, since it doesn’t matter anyway.
santa barbara lane. he could remember that, right? simple enough. he was only stoned, and it was already wearing off, anyway, so it wouldn’t be that hard to keep track of. santa barbara lane. he can’t help but like the feeling of raph’s eyes on him too, he notices, and he doesn’t know whether or not to feel bad about that. no– he does know. he doesn’t feel guilty about it. peter takes into account all the bandages on the angel’s fingers and naturally, he just finds it even more endearing.
peter takes the phone and it takes him a moment to, but he plugs his phone number into it (it tended to change more often than most people’s do. burner phones, after all). the contact information is under the name ‘baby boy’, with his real name, ‘peter’, somewhere in the details. he grins and licks his lips as he’s handing the phone back.
“oh, yeah? sounds like fun. —but, y’know, i could be done with business f’r the night right now, if i wanted t’be.” that was definitely an offer of any kind, accompanied by a shrug of one of his shoulders.
Raphael picks it right back up and gives the biggest shit eating grin when he notes the name Peter has filed himself under. Obviously, the boy is totally free fucking game and the neon celestial has never felt this damn giddy about potential company.
Since the beginning of his existence, Raph has always remembered himself as alone in the great big world. The person he loved most was wrapped around the little finger of the actual literal devil (yes, Lucifer and he was a massive cock sucking gayest twat out of all his siblings) and well the drugs made it hard for him to play nice with anyone else in the gene pool.
His fingers reach out to straighten up baby boy's sweater a little, "Sounds like you gotta clock out soon. Do you like taco bell?" His fingers pick up the draw string to wrap them up around his fingers as he locks his eyes on Peter's which he knows have never exactly left his vessel's (yeah he's tooting his own fucking horn, you would too if you looked like Brendon fucking Urie) handsome face.
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