[ Jesse's place is big. Too big for someone of his age who's supposedly self-employed and 'not a drug dealer', but if he's asked about that he'll just make up some bullwinder about inheritance or whatever. It's not that he particularly enjoys lying to people, but out of necessity, it's become easier with time. As of now, he has no particular attachment to Dera, so guilt won't follow his white lies. Sure, he seems like a chill enough guy to hang around, but Jesse doesn't let people in so easily. Letting them in means there's a potential for him to suffer loss and he's had enough of that. More than enough. Still, he's a social being by nature, and being left alone with his own thoughts doesn't normally end well for him. PTSD and all that comes with it. People are a distraction from that.
Jesse perks up from his slouched position when he thinks he hears the crunch of gravel in his driveway and he stands quickly, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie as he approaches the large living room window and peers out between the curtains. It's a habit to check from a safe distance away from the front door before approaching to let someone in, and when he notices the familiar swath of dyed hair and physique matching the picture he saw online, he's relieved. No catfish today.
His baggy jeans make a subtle sound as he crosses to the front door, the sound of his locks opening clicking in the empty air before he pulls the door open almost right after Dera knocks. Jesse has a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips when he greets the other guy, his own shoddy tattoo taking up the back of one hand and sprawling past his wrist. He offers that hand in greeting. Is a handshake too formal? It feels like he's forgotten how to have 'regular' interactions with people. ]
What's up, man? C'mon in.
[ Jesse's voice is deep and gravelly, roughed up by years of smoking. He presses the door closed behind Dera and he's really tempted to turn the lock but that might send red flags flying, so he pushes away that temptation and tries to ignore the creeping anxiety as he heads back towards the futon to offer Dera a seat with a vague gesture. He grabs a glass off his kitchen counter for his guest and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. He doesn't bother with the coasters that sit in a stack in the middle of the table. He's not even sure why he has them. ]
You can pour yourself a drink if you want. Unless you wanna stick with vodka. I got some in the kitchen.
[The half-smoked cigarette is invitation enough to finish his inside. He follows Jesse in without offering much more than a nod in greeting. He's never really been a handshake sort of guy, and hugging at the beginning of a hook-up can be weird when it's with another dude - Jesse seems sort of like the manly type, doesn't he? Dera can dig that. He's not particularly one way or the other himself.
[Drinks make for easier conversation than awkward first hellos anyway.]
Appreciate it, man. [He says this while pouring himself a drink of what's offered on the table. His anxiety tells him it could be drugged - that's what all the PSAs warn you about, but it hasn't happened to him yet. He takes it anyway, then glances around a little before seating himself on the edge of the couch. It would be weird to ask if it's okay to sit down, right? Dera's mind is always reeling, but his expression is rather void of any emotion to betray that. He looks calm and casual.]
You've got a nice place. [It's not an accusatory observation - more like a cheap attempt at conversation. But really. It's a nice place.] Better than my shitty studio.
[He takes a drink.] Not a great place for meeting up, that one. Does its job though.
[It's always hard to tell when it's time to cease the small talk and shift into something more interesting, but Dera decides to let Jesse take the lead. The first few minutes of meeting someone off of a dating app are always awkward, right? Maybe once they get stoned it'll be a little less so.]
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Jesse perks up from his slouched position when he thinks he hears the crunch of gravel in his driveway and he stands quickly, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie as he approaches the large living room window and peers out between the curtains. It's a habit to check from a safe distance away from the front door before approaching to let someone in, and when he notices the familiar swath of dyed hair and physique matching the picture he saw online, he's relieved. No catfish today.
His baggy jeans make a subtle sound as he crosses to the front door, the sound of his locks opening clicking in the empty air before he pulls the door open almost right after Dera knocks. Jesse has a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips when he greets the other guy, his own shoddy tattoo taking up the back of one hand and sprawling past his wrist. He offers that hand in greeting. Is a handshake too formal? It feels like he's forgotten how to have 'regular' interactions with people. ]
What's up, man? C'mon in.
[ Jesse's voice is deep and gravelly, roughed up by years of smoking. He presses the door closed behind Dera and he's really tempted to turn the lock but that might send red flags flying, so he pushes away that temptation and tries to ignore the creeping anxiety as he heads back towards the futon to offer Dera a seat with a vague gesture. He grabs a glass off his kitchen counter for his guest and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. He doesn't bother with the coasters that sit in a stack in the middle of the table. He's not even sure why he has them. ]
You can pour yourself a drink if you want. Unless you wanna stick with vodka. I got some in the kitchen.
no subject
[Drinks make for easier conversation than awkward first hellos anyway.]
Appreciate it, man. [He says this while pouring himself a drink of what's offered on the table. His anxiety tells him it could be drugged - that's what all the PSAs warn you about, but it hasn't happened to him yet. He takes it anyway, then glances around a little before seating himself on the edge of the couch. It would be weird to ask if it's okay to sit down, right? Dera's mind is always reeling, but his expression is rather void of any emotion to betray that. He looks calm and casual.]
You've got a nice place. [It's not an accusatory observation - more like a cheap attempt at conversation. But really. It's a nice place.] Better than my shitty studio.
[He takes a drink.] Not a great place for meeting up, that one. Does its job though.
[It's always hard to tell when it's time to cease the small talk and shift into something more interesting, but Dera decides to let Jesse take the lead. The first few minutes of meeting someone off of a dating app are always awkward, right? Maybe once they get stoned it'll be a little less so.]