Fingering and tuning their bass, humming notes as they wind the strings.

“My closet. You were in there long enough..” They stood with a wide stance, arms folded at their chest. “Care to explain how you got into my business party last night?”

“Non-human? Get outta here, you must have drank to much.” A hand gestured him to step out of the closet. Lord knows they hate the closet enough, but at this time of day, they can’t deal with his amnesia in the mix, too.

“And now you’re here, in my apartment. Looking for demons. I’m assuming you’ve found nothing.”

About to start a painting. Anyone looking to be a muse?

“You don’t look good there, bud.”

“Almost sick, even. You’ve gone all out for this joke this time, huh?’

“You’re pretending to be sick again, you can’t fool me.” VB was never one to fall for the same trick again; they were stubborn that way.

“What in the hell are you nervous about? Someone hunting you down?”

“If I offer to be your body guard, would you stop looking so pale? It’s like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Alright, sorry. Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot. I just don’t want to see any danger come to you.” Loose curls were lifted with an awkward hand as they stare at the ground.

Interesting fashion choice. Not getting cold for ya?

Not gonna help pick that up.

Any time. Watch the mouth, though. Not polite for kids to swear

Someone wants to be bullied.

Well, maybe not that far.

They’re two years older than him, and an eyeroll away from challenging him to.

With one swift motion, their head smacks against a desk, frustrated fingers are tangled up in their curls. It was clear no toe-tapping or leg shaking was going to rid their stress.

Those poor noodles, how could you?

What does one do when they can’t sleep? Hit a bong, perhaps?