status. closed starter for brooks copeland @coyotetm setting. brooks' apartment, around 9pm.
BROOKS' BACHELOR PAD was exactly what you might picture a bachelor pad to be, if it belonged to a highly successful, type a finance bro on the verge of thirty. an ikea showroom might feel more like a real home, and yet julian has spent years memorizing every square inch of it, has draped his body on every available surface at one point in varying states of sobriety. it had more furniture than julian's, at least; his place in willow commons was more like a backroom with a high ceiling and great natural lighting, more boxes than there were actual stuff a person living there might use despite having moved in six years ago. which meant that when julian felt like hanging out at home, it meant hanging out at brooks' home, raiding his fridge and hijacking his netflix, getting high on his friend's supply on his living room floor. “i tell you, man, that place is a money laundering front. could also be a cult. i mean, ivory springs? they might as well just make us work on a coloring book on why smoking crack will ruin your life and give us the rest of the day to get a massage or go mini golfing, then send us off with a smile and a wave thanking us for coming and to see them again soon.” julian chuckled, sniffling as he dabbed the base of his wrist on his nostrils, flexing his jaw. the irony of telling his friend about his recent rehab stint, albeit exaggerated, while doing a line was not lost on him, much less the fact that bojack horseman was currently on brooks' screen. they'd barely touched the pizza, which was meant to be dinner, on the coffee table next to vestiges of the pair's indiscretions on the darkened glass. “the intake girl was cute, though. she even remembered me from last time. she's your type, for sure.” if brooks' type walked on two legs (they didn't even need to be real legs, honestly, or have two, or… well, walk) and can legally be admitted into a drinking establishment. “might even take you there, introduce you. pretty sure she's single. or... i dunno. hell, that ain't stopped you before.” the underlying humor was dark, almost insidious in their flagrant proclivity for indulgence.