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our muses are stuck in an elevator together.
Well, that was most definitely not natural elevator movement. It took Nathan a few seconds to process that the elevator was, in fact, not moving anymore, and was, also in fact, stuck. Just him and Rafe, huh… Not the most ideal situation, definitely the kind of thing that’d make Nate mutter ‘crap.’
“Crap.” He follows suit on his usual behaviour as expected, and evidently it wasn’t a good idea- at least, not around Adler of all people, anyways. There’s an empty void in place of where conversation and-or panicking should be, and instead an awkward situation– very, very awkward.
It was getting horrendously warm in the elevator– Aha! Warm! That’s it, that’s the way to go with this conversation, yup. Mr. Nathan ‘Silver Tongue’ Drake prepares himself, loosening his shoulders and tapping his feet ever so slightly, as he turns to Rafe with a friendly smile.
“Whew! It’s been so hot lately, Jesus! When’s this weather gonna tone down? Like- I mean, I’ve been in all kinds of climates, but I think the humid heats around these parts is gonna kill me.” Nathan nervously chuckles as he begins to think to himself; “Oh dear God, no. Nate, you had one job, your one job was to not make conversation awkward and help time pass as though it were butter bobsledding down a half-melted ice cube and you seriously chose the worst possible method of doing so.”
Once Nate realises how terrible that entire string of words was, he clears his throat, and quickly tries to swerve the conversation topic. “But yeah, are you– uh– lookin’ forward to the weekend?” It’s official, he’s dug himself his own warm elevator grave.