closed // @lost-count
The last drop of wine falls into Avery’s glass and the empty bottle lands with a loud clink next to the others -- Avery;s already lost count how many exactly; of course, the number’s so high because for Avery, it takes a lot to get drunk, tipsy even, if he wants to -- he really needs to try. He thought that the same thing was supposed to work for Heath but judging from the looks of the other, the alcohol is having an easier job with him. “You’re already drunk,” Avery smiles as he nurses his wine glass in his hands, regarding the other with his head tilted to the side. He turns his body sideways on the couch so he can face the other man better; it feels odd -- the air of friendliness between the two of them and not because of their difference in species but because Avery himself doesn’t really do friends that often; more on the bitter side and with the tendency to isolate himself, he’s amazed at how easy the night is going. “You can go grab another one from the cellar if you’re up for it, though.”









