@suckrrpunch
He tilts his chin up imperiously, a challenge in return to the hooded boy. He’s clearly caught onto his looks, wary or suspicious, during meetings and otherwise. Few in the club had managed to bring his guard quite so closely to the forefront. “Don’t worry,” Graham scoffs, irritable, “I don’t intend to look at you for any longer than necessary.” And then, a smug grin as he leans on a palm. “I just think it’s nice that the club is so inclusive toward methheads and the homeless.”
' HOMELESS. ' he repeats out loud, and he laughs but the sound comes across hollow, like something's missing. he shakes his head, tries to reason with his own thoughts. what else could he expect from a boy who looks like he's never had to deal with a real problem a day in his life? his jaw tightens as he looks down, feels frustration rising beneath the surface at being stuck alone with graham flowers of all people, but he tries not to give into the temptation. he tries to keep his head above the surface, but god, he couldn't help but wonder what MISTER POPULAR might look like if someone showed him he wasn't so high and mighty after all. ' you don't like me, do you? ' it's spoken like a question, but not one he expects an answer to when he already knows the answer. ' you know... kaz likes me. she likes me a lot, actually, and i've, uh... ' he laughs again to punctuate his words. ' i've heard a lot about you. '
