theisaiahmiller‌:
Isaiah wasn’t sure if the lockdown meant he wasn’t able to leave the motel room at all; if he would be arrested or accused of something if he dared to walk down the hallway to the vending machine or something, but with Peter asleep and all TV channels invaded by late night infomercials, he figured he could take his chances. He put on a robe over his PJs and walked out, not caring for socks or slippers. The place was deserted, quiet at best, the hallway seeming longer somehow than it had been when he had just checked in. Isaiah tightened the cord around his waist and hastened his steps, surprised to find another person standing in front of the vending machine, so he slowed down.Â
“Not… really. No when you put it like that,” he responded softly, afraid to disturb the quiet of the place if he talked with his normal voice. He slipped his hand in the one pocket he had and counted his coins. “May I…?” He asked before stepping in front of the vending machine himself. “There’s one of these at the studio. Things always get stuck, you just gotta…” he let his words trail off as he put his coins in and typed the same number to get the bag unstuck, coming off with one for himself, knocking a bag of Twizzlers as they dropped. “Looks like we’ve got some good karma too…” he says with amusement. In moments like this, small things like a free bag of Twizzlers could mean a few minutes of joy. “Want to share these?” He asked after picking up the three items from the machine.
Unsure if he should make eye contact or avert his eyes from someone who may or may not have expected to run into somebody out here, Sef nodded. He had no idea what he was doing at any given moment, but especially not right now, so he handed the reigns over all-too-readily. Maybe with another’s good luck, he still had a chance of salvaging his Martin’s.Â
As it turned out, “good luck” was a bit of an understatement. Not only did the other manage to grab two bags of chips, but he also nabbed some candy along the way. Sweet to balance out the salty...Sef could have sworn that when the guy turned around, the machine threw up the finger at him behind his back. “Thank you,” he replied, gingerly reaching for his bag. The plastic crinkled far too noisily between unsure fingers. On the one hand, Sef didn’t want to overstep, and a gnawing part of him just wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and be anti-social with his snack. On the other, he was literally and figuratively starving for some kind of normalcy amidst this punishment they’d all been sentenced to. Plus...his company seemed kind enough. “Are you a fan of mixing chips with fruit candy?”
