He was reclined on the couch, the tinkling piano of Succession’s opening theme just beginning to play, when a girl strolled into the kitchen and offered him a sleepy wave. Ari wasn’t far behind her, but he stopped short in the doorway- Kas met his gaze, then looked towards the stranger fumbling with the countertop espresso maker, and understood the situation immediately. Does anyone else want some coffee? the girl asked brightly. The only response she got from Ari was non-affirmative grunt. Kas shook his own head, already having dismissed the situation as not his problem. “There’s more Nespresso pods in the third cabinet,” he told her with easy indifference, attention returning solely to the TV screen. Ari’s glare didn’t have to be seen to be felt.
But now it was past noon, and the girl was laid out by the pool with her bikini partially-undone and a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, blissfully unaware of the fact that she was overstaying her welcome. He didn’t want to get involved. He’d made it clear the last time this had happened that he wasn’t interested in doing evictions, just because Ari’s communication skills extended only about as far as whatever got these girls into his bed in the first place. Any other day, Kas would’ve happily let him suffer through as many hours as it took for this girl to finally leave of her own accord- but a text from his mother reminded him that she was due to arrive in a matter of hours, and he cared slightly more about her happiness than he did about teaching Ari Cowen lessons he would never learn. Now they both stood in front of the glass sliding doors, Kas with his arms loosely crossed and his expression visibly irritated; he shot Ari a look that left no room for argument. “It’s been three hours. Go over there, find your big boy words, and send her home.”
@ari-cowen
