RP: Logan Hawke, Anders (serhealsalot)

[exiledalistair]

The hallways were quiet. The kitchens were quiet. Everything had just been strangely quiet for a while now. Alistair was in socked feet, loose linen pants and a soft unlaced shirt, standing over a small pot of porridge he was cooking... for himself? It was more porridge than even he could eat comfortably, especially considering it was porridge he was making, which no one could eat comfortably.

He rubbed at his forhead. Why did he feel like he was missing something? Well a bigger more something than usual anyway.

He'd have to ask... someone. When he saw... them? Zevran, his brain whispered. How many days has he been gone? He frowned, and looked out the small window slits that ventilated the room, and the question was gone already as he wondered for the thousandth time whether it was morning or night.

It was whatever time it was, but he'd woken up alone in his bed, with a headache from too much wine and his shoes on, feeling despondent. Lonely. Which was fairly usual, all things considered. He stirred again, frowning into the whitish-brownish-greyish paste. "Probably more water," he muttered.

Comments

[serhealsalot_fadewalk]

Anders hummed softly as Logan explained his feelings about tragic romances. He rubbed his cheek against the stubble on Logan's jaw, enjoying the light prickle and drag between them and murmured, "So what do you watch when you need a good cry? If sad love stories aren't your thing?"

Anders should probably admit he was an incurable sap with a real maudlin streak, so the sadder the love story usually, the better, but he didn't want Logan to lose all respect for him at once. He shifted and drew Logan back with him, stretching out on his side on the bed. "I can't imagine it's a sad dog movie. That just seems completely not your thing as well."

[modernhawke]

Logan blushed a little at the way Anders was rubbing against him a bit like a cat, and how much he liked the rasp of Anders' skin against his stubble. "Um...I guess just anything with Sebastian Stan looking teary-eyed? Political Animals, for instance. Kings. Either of those are a good bet."

He followed Anders down to the bed and dropped his head against Anders' shoulder, wrapping an arm across his middle. "I mean, I don't really watch sad movies when I'm sad. I think I did that with, like, P.S. I Love You one time, and it didn't end well." He cleared his throat, remembering bawling into a large wad of kleenex at 1 a.m. maybe a year after his dad died, trying not to wake up Carver and his Mom. It was not an experience he had wanted to repeat. "And sad dog movies..." he shuddered. "I don't even know why those exist."