@brokenmagxc
He’s got two coffees clutched tight, head bowed against the rush of the city around him. There’s noise, of course, but the streets are buzzing with activity, and it sets his teeth on edge. Being sheltered in Arthur’s home hasn’t done him any favors, Warren realizes; he’s become something of a recluse, too used to the peace of it.
He needs to find work. He knows this. But sometimes waking up is hard enough, let alone standing on his own two feet and acting like an adjusted human. But Arthur deserves more than just a lump of flesh that eats his food, so here Warren is, using what he’d made earlier that day to buy stupidly expensive coffee.
Rethinking priorities might be on the docket for the day.
Home, when he reaches it, smells warm and rests easy on his shoulders. Embraced by the quiet of it, he sits and sets both drinks down, reheating them with a touch. The dreary winter sits heavy like an unwelcome blanket, but there are ways around it.
Waiting for Arthur to get home, he practices by heating the air in the little space; this kind of work always makes him nervous - it’s not familiar the way water is, but he won’t let himself lax on it. Neither of them can afford him being out of practice.