#ch: laszlo

[veleitas]

Dead Sight - LASZLO

He felt no fear at what he saw, only a familiar chill as the voices called to him, whispering to come home. 

I took a break from outlining so I could make an edit bc I have no sense of priorities. and I luv him. (also he’s not a werewolf if that’s the vibe this is giving off lmao that Is a deer eye (he’s not a weredeer either))

[winndeavor]

get in laszlo we’re going shopping || digital art

@laszlowrobinson

He hadn’t seen Laszlo in months, probably. They’d both been busy, Winston with his volunteering and his work, Laszlo with his art. It happened, but Win didn’t like it, so he’d done the adult thing: kidnapped the man for a day away from Swynlake. 

Currently, they were ambling down one of the main thoroughfares of NTO, catching up. Winston hadn’t quite planned it out further than this, just wanting to spend time with a mate, maybe get a bite to it, forget about being weighed down by work and the constant responsibility of being an adult with an international business. 

Nudging the other man with his hand, Winston raised a brow as he pointed his head toward some small, hole in the wall. It could have been an antique store, or it could have been a thrift store, but Winston had the suddenly brilliant idea to go through it. Win had fond memories of doing just the same with Simon and Andrew when they were far younger.

“How about there? Don’t think it’s quite time for supper yet. We could do with a bit of fooling about.” 

[winndeavor]

bon apetit || laszlo & winston

@laszlowrobinson

Winston had spent enough time hermitted away to know when he needed to start socializing again. Whether it be from a funky mood brought on by work or a bad break up, he was usually able to bounce back fairly easily. However, after waking up from this last town dream, the first where he'd died again in over twenty years, well, it was a lot.

Enough to make it so he begged off from the office for a week or so, citing poor mental health as it's cause. He wasn't wrong, and anyone involved with the company who knew about the dreams ( or had experienced them ) sympathized. Others left him alone, particularly when he was forced to go in to grab papers or other necessary items. He didn't want to force Tony to grab them, knowing he'd probably been just as affected by the bloody thing as Winston himself.

He was an adult. He could handle it.

The phone call from Laszlo about a week in, though, asking after how he was doing felt a bit like a breath of fresh air. Felt like someone who had been there, had lived through it ( even when he maybe hadn't, not in the same way ) could understand what he was feeling. Laszlo offered to take him out for a drink, to get his mind off of things, but Winston had countered, not quite ready to venture out into the crowded pubs of London or the thrumming base of Pixie's.

Laszlo brought the liquor, Winston would supply the food and they could have as much time to socialize as they liked within the privacy of one of their homes ( Winston's, this time, since Laszlo had hosted him last time around ).

Winston opened the door for the other man when he eventually arrived, a small, tired smile on his face. He was dressed incredibly casually in a pair of soft cotton pants, a jumper, and bare feet. He was in his own home, needing to be as comfortable as possible; stuffy suits and business attire were not required, not now.

"Hullo Laszlo," he said, opening the door wide so he could step through. "You can drop whatever you've got onto the table. Put your things wherever you'd lkke."