DJ couldn't imagine the nice woman being any prettier with makeup than she was without—But instead of seeming sycophantic, he just smiled at the joke, to show her it wasn't unfunny.
"Yes, that's it." His was an odd name, he knew, and because of that it felt sort of embarrassing to have to repeat it.
He felt ridiculous, being thanked just because he'd been here to witness her cry-fest. Just because he'd stood like a crash dummy and let her embrace him.
Why hadn't he thought of the possibility of her being indecent? If she had been, there could be a lot more trouble. Like being marked as a sexual predator for the rest of his life. Fuck. He was an idiot—Moreover, an idiot that was slipping when it came to being on his toes, supposed to be ready for anything.
"... You're being too kind... You don't owe me an apology, or jokes... Please, just..." Derward's breath became shaky at the end of the sentence, but came to Rockelle as asked and sat beside her without disturbing the furniture.
"NO. I didn't say that. Believe me, please. Really, I didn't. I-I said some of your staff mistook me for a member of the press and let me in." With a breath he didn't let out, Derward turned towards Rockelle, stretching out the lapel of his jacket, so she could see the object that started all this confusion in motion.
"It's a button that says 'press the'... Press the button... Get it? I never dreamt in a million years that something like this would happen..." He turned away, one leg beginning to wiggle anxiously. The vein in his temple showed and his throat felt dry and tight, with every tick of the clock above the vanity his eyes grew waterier.
"This is gonna sound crazy, but I was really hoping nobody was in here and I could just catch some sleep... I'm so tired, lady... I'm so freaking tired..." His voice cracked and he rubbed at his eyes (as though angry at them for their ability to produce tears).