mountains beyond mountains,

[hungrylike]

So, yeah, like, this place has all sorts of things, more'n I thought there'd be of what I was looking for, but there ain't any people I seen yet. Anybody around out there? Me, I'll be in the cafe, I guess. I'm brilliant with burgers.

Comments

[hungrylike]

Tom blinks, and wishes, faintly, that he could feel right-footed again. He'd like more proper friends, and Sebastian is real nice. "Oh, uh, nothing. But, yeah, I can show you some moves if you, uh, if you like."

[sebastard]

And Sebastian wouldn't mind keeping Tom around as an acquaintance. He's interesting, to say the least, and it can't hurt to walk around with a bloke who looks like he could beat you into a pulp. Especially when he turns out to be about as likely to hurt someone as a housefly. "Yeah, that'd be ace." He shoots Tom a grin. "Maybe I can teach you how to do your face after."

[hungrylike]

"My face?" Tom frowns a bit, thinking. "How'd that work?"

[sebastard]

"Oh, you know." Sebastian mimes putting on makeup. "Lipstick, rouge, mascara..."

[hungrylike]

Tom balks. "What? No... I'd look rubbish." Sebastian in makeup is one thing, he can clearly pull it off. Tom would just look funny...

[sebastard]

"You sure?" Sebastian's in a mood to tease. Sorry, Tom. "I'll lend you a wig."

[hungrylike]

While Tom is up for trying new things, especially with friendly people, this seems a bit... much, in a way he can't really place. "Nah, I'd look silly."

[sebastard]

Sebastian shrugs. "Suit yourself. The offer's always open." He leads them to the lift and then punches the button for his floor when they get in. "Maybe I'll take you out for dinner instead."

[hungrylike]

Tom is about to apologize-- maybe he could try a wig? Maybe? If Sebastian promises not to laugh-- but then the subject is changed, and Tom goes right back to beaming. "That'd be brilliant, I'm starved." He always is, for a few days after the new moon.

[sebastard]

"There's a great little Italian place near my flat." Sebastian wasn't really expecting Tom to take him up on the offer, though he is fond of getting manlier blokes into lipstick when he can manage it. The results are always entertaining. Just having someone to spend the evening with is nice, even if it's not exactly a date. "D'you like pasta?"

[hungrylike]

Tom has, in his life, eaten live rabbits, and a chicken that'd been hanging on a string for a night before it was cooked. Pasta would be fantastic. "Oh, yeah, sounds great." Tom is pretty sure he has enough money to at least split a dinner. "Pasta's brilliant."

[sebastard]

"Brilliant." They get off at Sebastian's floor, and his room is just around the corner. When he unlocks it and opens the door, the scent of lavender wafts out. One more door unlocked, and they're in his flat at home, where evening gowns poke out of the clothes cupboard and brightly coloured wigs sit atop his dresser. It's not exactly neat, but it doesn't have the look of a war zone at the moment, which is a triumph for Sebastian. "Well, this is it. Nothing too impressive."

[hungrylike]

"It's nice," Tom says, smiling. He's never lived alone-- except for the one time. But sleeping in a forest isn't the same, he figures. "You got a lot of dresses," he says, slightly awed.

[sebastard]

Sleeping in a forest and in a flat in London are rather different things, yes. "Yeah," Sebastian says happily, going over to pull the door of the clothes cupboard open for Tom's edification. "I mean, this is all of them. But never mind that, we're going in mufti tonight."

[hungrylike]

Tom looks on, clearly a bit awed. So many colors! He mutters a muted 'wow'-- he's never seen so many dresses before. Sebastian must be very accomplished. He looks up, distracted and confused, when Sebastian speaks. "Mufty?"

[sebastard]

"Normal clothes," he explains, sliding the clothes cupboard door shut again. "I'm not going to dress up. I'd rather grab something to eat. And since I'm a bloody awful cook, out for pasta it is."

[hungrylike]

Tom smiles in understanding. "Brilliant. It'd be weird if you were all decked out and I wasn't, anyway..." At least, he assumes it'd be. He wouldn't know. "Well, you lead the way."

[sebastard]

You call it weird, Sebastian calls it Friday. But whatever. He does as told and leads Tom out of his bedroom, flat, and building, chatting the entire way. "Remind me when we go back to the hotel that I've got to pick up some books, that's what I was there for in the first place. I don't need 'em right away, but I should probably get them eventually..."

[hungrylike]

"Will do," Tom says, making a mental note. "What kinda books?"

[sebastard]

"Plays. I've got to read 'em for class." It's still light out and will be for some time--that's summer for you--and everything's got a sort of golden glow to it. Sebastian's part of town is safe enough, if not the world's nicest. Better than he should be able to afford on his salary, thanks to Dad. "And one on the history of theater. Are you in school?"

[hungrylike]

"Oh, right." It sounds so obvious, Tom wonders if Sebastian's said it before. "Sounds interesting," it really does. "Nah, not right now. Might start going soon, but," he shrugs. "Dunno what I'd study."

[sebastard]

"It's okay. We're reading a bunch of old French plays--not my favourite, but they're all right." They turn a corner. "I guess what you'd study'd depend on what you're interested in. What d'you want to do for a living?"

[hungrylike]

"Y'know French?" Tom says, looking a little surprised. The only person he knows who knows French is Hal, and Hal is a dickhead about it. "Oh, I dunno," he says, answering Sebastian's question. "I never thought about it."

[sebastard]

"Oh, they've been translated. I can't read French worth shite." Sebastian grins. "I took Spanish in school, actually. My dad speaks it, so I figured I'd be better off if I could get help on my schoolwork."

And then they're just about there, and Sebastian shrugs. "Well, what d'you like to do? That's how I picked, anyway."

[hungrylike]

"Oh, right clever." Tom says, trying to figure how all this works in his head. He realizes, perhaps a bit belatedly, that he's never been to a proper school, and doesn't really know how they work. "And they test you on 'em?"

"Dunno." Without the slightest hint of depression or concern, he says, "Friend says we mostly end up in low-pay shift-work, so..." He shrugs.