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Ruckus/Duster:The day has finally come. There is a day free from the shop, free from carrying around a baby 24 hours a day, free from boyfriendly duties and favors to friends, or whatever adult things he juggles these days. Not that he minds any of them, but it's exhausting sometimes, and now he's tapping at Leech's door with his foot, as he's busy checking a text with one hand and hanging onto a bag of donuts with the other, wondering if Leech is even home yet and Ruckus is capable of answering a door.

Leech:Leech hasn't been home long, but long enough to have changed out of his work clothes. On his way to the kitchen when that knock comes, he diverts to the door to pull it open. Duster's appearance doesn't quite get a smile, but there's a sort of fondness in his eyes that makes it plain that the man is welcome. "'ey. Come to check on yer invalid?" He waits for Dust to enter before closing the door, then heads back to the kitchen, motioning lazily at the couch on the way. "He's been napping since I got here."

Ruckus/Duster:The phone gets pocketed quickly after the door opens, smiling enough to show a few teeth at the sight of Leech and waving with the donut bag before finding a good place to put them down, "My invalid? Oh no. 's all your's." He glances at the couch where Ruckus... sort of looks like he just tipped forward onto it and never got back up, which can't be comfortable, splayed out on his front like that, but apparently he'd found no reason to shift to a more sensible position. He makes a sort of odd face, for a Duster expression, like he's mildly annoyed, but says nothing of what he's thinking and doesn't bother trying to tap the guy awake, "I already got a baby at home, dude. It's like having a tiny, drunk adult with grabby hands. How you holdin up?"

Leech:Leech tilts his head, an eye narrowed dubiously, but he doesn't outwardly argue with that; Ruckus can't be assigned to anyone but himself, truly. But the further comment gets a snort of amusement. The parasite tugs the fridge open to retrieve a soda, then waves towards the innards of the fridge in offering. "Ahhh. I'm arrite. Kinda tiring, going back and forth to work every day, but mebbe he'll be recovered enough to move soon. Figure he'd be safer at the school, too, if anyone's looking for him yet - not exactly the first place anyone'd think of."

Ruckus/Duster:He nods a thanks for the fridge offer, tapping the toe of his converse against the tile in a fidgety rhythm while stooping to the height of the shelves, humming to acknowledge the conversation, "Sorry to kind of end up dumping him here on you," He looks a little sheepish for the apology, finally finding something beer-ish but distinctly un-Leech hiding out in the door, standing back up but slouching, maybe guilty for his height when Leech is on the more vertically challenged side, "Not in such a good place to stash him these days."

Leech:Leech gives a sigh in his restrained way, more of a barely-audible exhale, as he hefts himself onto the counter - perhaps to even out the height difference some. "I don't mind. You know that. An' of course ya can't take him; ya got a business to run, and a baby to take care of. I'm not riskin' much of anything here. Even got Kellen outta harm's way."

Ruckus/Duster:Duster gives sort of an expressionless nod for that assurance as he invites himself to the counter across, a little lost in thought like he's reminded how much shit he's keeping track of these days, before shaking his head and grinning up at Leech, "I'm gonna admit that I miss the practical side of coke lately." He glances back over at the couch, as if making sure the beast is still asleep, and as the arm flung over the side hasn't so much as twitched, it seems so. He turns back to Leech with eyes a little sharper, low tones but audible as ever, "But really. You got a brother, a... whatever Tim is, don't wanna put words in your mouth there, all those nasty kids to keep in check, and now," He waves a tattooed arm at the couch, "you've got a Ruckus face down in your couch, probably drainin' more out of you than you both know." He pauses, sipping on his beverage and looking introspective, "Don't burn yourself out before you can help it."

Leech:Leech smirks faintly for that first comment, but forbears from offering Duster anything, since he doubts Maggie would be appreciative. The expression fades as he goes on, though, going completely blank at the mention of Timothy, and the parasite looks away, at the wall rather than at what he can see of Ruckus. "It's not that bad. Ruckus isn' capable of doing much damage like he is; Kellen's been surprisingly understanding. An' Timothy hasn' spoken to me since I left fer the hospital, anyway." He does a decent job of sounding unconcerned about that, since it's what leeches do, but the way he immediately goes for a cigarette afterwards might give him away some.

Ruckus/Duster:Although he did give it up before all the crazylife set in, it would indeed due to have unlimited pick-me-up as of late, but surely Maggie would notice when he straightened the same picture three times and cleaned every surface without sleeping. If he's skeptical of Leech's netural response, he doesn't voice it, though those green eyes do appear to be digging into his friend a little, padded around the edges with concern, of course. "Tim is a little skittish, but I wouldn't think he'd cut-off like that." The cigarette is noticed, has him reaching into his own pocket for a light. Ruckus is roused slightly at the clicking sound, but unmoving, as it seems he's a bit contorted, and it's easier to just lay deadened than try to reposition himself, barely half-aware of his surroundings beyond white noise.

Leech:Leech does his best to ignore those analytical eyes, knowing well enough how Duster works by now. He gives a humming noise and a minute shrug. "Things've been pretty rocky off an' on since he started fuckin' his roommate." He doesn't go farther down that road, sure that Duster remembers (better than Leech does himself) the evening Leech spent at his place, incredibly fucked up, the first time he released Timothy from his collar. "And he was with me, when you called. Didn't exactly like the idea of me runnin' off to another lover at a second's notice, never mind that lover bein' in critical condition at the time. He's always been real jealous; this is the first time he's actually had cause fer it."

Ruckus/Duster:There is a pained whistle for the infidelity, and as much as he knows Leech is more... sexually independant these days, he knows his attachment nerve is as strong as ever. Running a hand through unkempt but freshly-reddened hair, he sighs, for once not able to come to a conclusive judgment, "Fuck, man, I'm sorry. Kinda don't know who to feel worse for here." Leech doesn't deserve something he cares for slam the door on him, and Tim doesn't deserve having a Ruckus dropped on his life. "At least Jake didn' run him off in person. Kid doesn't need that on top of it." Said Jake does turn a little in his awkward position for the mention of his name - however rarely used it is - but doesn't otherwise show any outward signs of life.

Leech:Shaking his head dismissively at the theoretical sympathy, because he just doesn't want to think about the situation, Leech takes a longer than usual drag of his cigarette to remove it from his mind. Finally looking back at Duster, a corner of his mouth tucks back in amusement. "Well, no, not yet...but he did threaten to kill the roommate. Fucker stabbed me after I tried to confiscate his switchblade - totally unrelated to the shit with Timothy. He doesn' know there's any involvement there." Because, of course, none of the people at the school (aside from Kellen) can be aware that Leech is involved with a student. "I didn' tell Ruckus jus' which fucker it was, though. Hopefully he'll forget about it before we relocate."

Ruckus/Duster:Duster spits a little while drinking for the mention of a stabbing, making a sneering face while wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, flames and checkers muffling the words, "Shit, Leech..." He considers the fact that if were more serious, he would have been told, even though it's rather concerning that crazy little Tim-fucking degenerates were prowling around his friend, close enough to inflict damage apparently, but he makes a wincing, sympathetic face and huffs, pausing to make sure he isn't hearing the sounds of the couch before responding, "For a guy who's so, an I say this in the most loving way possible, fried in a few ways that count, he's got revenge fetish like a fox when he sets his mind to it." There is a comfortable silence for a moment, and maybe he had something encouraging, but instead he just leans back against the overhead cabinets, half-limp, "Fuck. Everything gets heavy at once, huh?" There is a pained, humorless smirk as he watches Leech, feeling like exploding with everything he's worying about lately, on top of a kid and a Maggie, but he loses steam before it happens and just stays quiet, only broken by a gruff, sandpaper monotone from the couch, "Who's Tim?"

Leech:Leech gives another quiet sigh for Duster's reaction to that, wondering if people will ever stop seeing him as a helpless, neurotic thirteen year old boy. "It wasn' too deep, really. The school nurse was even able stitch it up." The quaver in his voice at the mention of stitching probably doesn't help him appear any more capable and self-reliant. He takes a drink of soda, like maybe his throat is just dry and that's why he stuttered, then snorts derisively. "Everything's always heavy at that place. Never went to high school before, so I never realized how fuckin' dramatic and claustrophobic the shit can be, but most of it doesn' matter for shit."

He might have gone on to say more, to convince Duster that he's perfectly okay and not ate up by an impending emotional breakdown, but that voice interrupts him before he gets started. His shoulders twitch slightly, and he glances towards the couch. The fact that Ruckus isn't actually visible yet helps him to keep his voice steady, hoping that too much wasn't overheard. "He's a student. How long've you been contorted like that? I don' think it'll help with the healing process." Sliding off the counter, Leech goes to dig in his backpack, where he keeps Ruckus' drugs.

Ruckus/Duster:Duster may see Leech as a bonafied adult now, but can't help the concern of a close friend leaking through the cracks now and then. Just something he's never going to drop the habit of, not while he feels the people around him are still in need of such attention. Just looking between the invalid and it's keeper are telling of that much, right now. He nods for the mention of the stitching incident, was the one insisting they really needed to get it done in the first place, the start of a long line of taking care of various hospital stays and technicalities with this group. Maybe thats a career to consider, he certainly knows enough by now.

Ruckus/Duster:There is a slight groan for the stirring on the couch as Leech goes to retrieve pills, setting down his drink and hopping off the counter, prepared to be a better physical match than Leech when it comes to subduing Ruckus. He does hope it doesn't come to that. Ruckus, however, ignores the question, sitting up on his own accord, groggily and pained as hell, but still maintaining the cross expression of someone left out of something, eyes narrowed somewhere in Leech's direction but not really focused, "'s not really what I asked."

Leech:Leech didn't expect his attempt at deflection to be well-received, so he still goes about collecting the necessary drugs, along with a glass of water, and enters the living room. He sets the items on the coffee table in front of Ruckus, keeping his own expression fairly blank. "It wasn' a very in-depth question. I'll tell ya later - I don't think it's a discussion Duster much wants to listen to." Considering he surely hears enough about his fucked-up relationship with Tim already, from his new employee Lars.

Ruckus/Duster:Surely, Dust knows more about all this than even he would rather know, but thats alright with him, there is a lot of fucked up shit stashed in his head by others to drown it out enough. Ruckus doesn't seem to be able to put up much if it comes to blows, though he looks just the way he does when he usually goes red behind the eyes, so Duster simply finds a wall of the living room to lean against, close but not hovering.

Ruckus ignores the drugs placed in front of him, and despite his obvious discomfort, seems to want to be lucid to a degree. "'m sure he can keep a handle on it, er find somethin' ta knit." He hasn't seen the forementioned friend yet, but doesn't need to, aware of his proximity but not deterred, "Somebody ya fuck? Somethin else?" He sounds almost casual, eyes still unmovingly narrowed, watching Leech carefully, angry but trying - poorly - to pretend he's just passive about the whole thing, like asking if it's raining outside.

Leech:Giving one of his quiet sighs, Leech drops onto one of the chaises, accepting that apparently this is being discussed now and doing his best to make it a short conversation, and to keep his unaffected visage. "A little of both, actually. It started out...somewhat serious, I guess, but lately it's mostly jus' been sex. Fer the last couple'a months, I mean, not jus' since you sprouted up again like a tulip needing water." He can't recall who initially used that description for his 'relationship' with Ruckus, but he still finds it very suitable, aside from Ruckus being inherently nothing like a tulip.

Ruckus/Duster:Instead of getting involved mediating where he doesn't feel is entirely necessary, Duster quietly meanders down the hall to go rumage through the bathroom cabinets or something to busy himself. At least until he hears any loud noises. The couch however is tense, Ruckus turning his head a little to try and ease the ache all over, to little avail. He looks at Leech with a face of anger, but the martini gazes gives away too much weariness and something akin to pain beyond the physical. He swallows hard, slouching a little in his seat, "'s this what it is? You do ta him like I did you?" He seems to regret it after it's said, shaking his head and habitually rubbing over his face with the poorer of his hands, "'m not around. I know that. but I don' like it."

Leech:Leech narrows his eyes, more uncertainty than anger, taking a drag of his cigarette to try to marshal his thoughts before replying. It doesn't work very well; he's had a long day, and his mental processes might not be up to any sort of serious discussion right now. "I don' really know what you mean by that, but I don't think so. It's - it was - more like what I had with Scrap." He can only shrug slightly for that last comment, because Ruckus is always 'not around', but when he's 'not around' for several months at a time, it's different.

Ruckus/Duster:Ruckus moves to maybe reach for Leech in some fashion - or at least his cigarette - but at a pull in his shoulder there is a hiss followed by a frustrated growl, good hand tensing into a fist and banging it into the coffee table, not enough for any damage but resounding enough to draw Duster from his dallying. He comes round to survey that nothing, including Leech, is broken, rolling his eyes and smacking his friend upside the head, carefully avoiding the stitches, "Take your pills, Jake. Chill out." Ruckus eyes him murderously as he makes his way back to the kitchen, but relents, struggling with the cap before sighing and handing it to Leech to open, looking defeated, although the whole action is strangely symbolic of their relationship.

Leech:Watching that progression of frustration, Leech tries not to look too sympathetic, waiting for the bottle to be offered rather than reaching for it. He trades for it, offering the cigarette before fighting the bottle open and setting it on the coffee table again. Though Duster knows more than enough about the traffic wreck that is his relationship with Timothy, Leech still feels oddly reluctant to discuss it with him here - if he has to discuss it at all. So instead he just silently moves from his chaise to the couch near Ruckus, taking the cigarette back when its offered.

Ruckus/Duster:Ruckus sucks heartily on the traded cigarette, coming down from his high of jealousy and anger, just sore and quietly fuming now. Leech isn't breaking his poker face in the slightest, and while normally he'd chip away at that resolve, someone tells him it's not going to go well this time with him worn out and Leech so headstrong. "Don't be so pissy when he don't deserve it. I'll tell him the truth about you, papillon." He points accusingly with this nearly empty beer, cocking an eyebrow in warning, which seems to quiet Ruckus' crude replies.

Leech:There's definitely an odd, suspicious look towards Duster for that threat, but it passes quickly enough and the parasite shakes his head. "Don't. I prolly don' wanna know." While it's meant in wry amusement, there's an undertone of seriousness to the words, an echo of the same excuse Ruckus always uses when Leech asks difficult questions. Hoping that can just pass over, at least until they're alone, Leech leans back on the couch and draws his legs up to cross them indian style, focusing on Duster again. "Shoulda let me know ya were coming over, I woulda brought Kellen home with me. He'll be sorry to miss you."

Ruckus/Duster:Dust has no intention of giving up his trump card for such a small occasion, saving that for something big, when it would be worth losing the best kept secret in New Jersey. Checking his phone again, Duster huffs, closing the few steps between he and Leech before giving him a pat on the shoulder, tone low, "I'm gonna head out, know where I am if ya need me, okay?" He doesn't turn green eyes to Ruckus - who is tonguing at pills currently as if he suddenly doesn't trust them - but gives Leech a meaningful look, maybe that says, 'you don't have to be nice to him, you know', but surely, the kid knows that by now.

Leech:Leech narrows an eye curiously at Duster's sudden departure, before belatedly remembering that the guy is a father now and nodding in acceptance. "Think I'll manage, but thanks." He more or less avoids that meaningful look, because yes, he knows that, but he still finds himself being nice more often than not. Instead he glances sideways at Ruckus, snorting for the man's suspicious expression. "Jus' swallow them."

Ruckus/Duster:Duster pats his shoulder in solidarity, standing and giving a little salute to Ruckus before making his exit, feeling every ounce of the weight of tension in the room as he does. Meanwhile, Ruckus continues frowning at his palm, muttering, "Tha's what she said..." before doing as he's told and downing them. Once they don't get lodged somewhere down the line, he slouches back down to try and get comfortable, laying out sideways just shy of his head in Leech's lap, hat pulled down over his eyes to block out the light. "Ta-da."

Leech:He might feel a little bit of sinking as the door closes behind Duster and the tension becomes that bit more obvious, but does his best to ignore it. He also slouches when Ruckus does, throwing his feet onto the coffee table, his lap easily accessible for that head, though he doesn't try to move it, too aware that Ruckus is still not entirely pleased with him. Instead, he just golf-claps in response to the pill-swallowing and lights another cigarette.

Ruckus/Duster:Dust may have been a good idea to have around to facilitate whatever conversation needed to happen between them, but maybe they need to just bite each other's ankles like rowdy dogs for a while before anything civil and constructive occurs. Papillon will handle that. Leech doesn't move away when he gets closer, which is encouraging, but not entirely comfortable yet, shifting a little to press against that thigh. "He know? 'bout me?" He sounds casual, keeping the posessive tones from his voice, hard as that is. But he can't do what he'd normally do: just bend Leech into impossible positions and remind him of what it was that kept them pulling toward each other despite months apart.

Leech:Leech might return that pressure with his leg, but it's so light that it could be passed off as accidental if necessary. The question makes him drag harder on his cigarette, but once he's exhaled the smoke, he doesn't hesitate before replying, mimicking Ruckus' casual tones. "'course he does. He knew about you before anything happened." He pauses for consideration and another hit before adding: "He got jealous, later, so mebbe I didn' tell him as much as I shoulda,'d arready been gone for about three months then."

Ruckus/Duster:Ruckus finally forgoes the hesitation, fully using that lap and leaning his face against the cool skin of Leech's stomach, arm coming up to wrap partially around the parasite's torso. He'll blame it on drugs that have not yet kicked in, shamelessly a little clingy but the more he's around Leech, lately, the more he makes allowances for himself. He should say he's sorry, for running off someone he'd never even met, or for making Leech visit another hospital bed, should say thank you for not saying 'tough shit' and instead taking him home and seeing to his care, for the endless pool of hope that doesn't seem to weaken no matter how long he's gone. But none of those things feel right on his tongue, can't get them to even bubble up his throat, and instead just presses a kiss to the stomach he's comfortably resting against.

Leech:Expecting more questions or possibly accusations, the sudden cuddling takes him off guard. Unprepared, he reacts instinctively instead, wrapping his free hand around the back of Ruckus' neck and scratching at his hairline, light and affectionate. After gnawing on his lower lip for a moment, unsure of what to make of this almost apologetic behavior, he eventually gives up on waiting for the questions and continues of his own accord. "It wasn' just you, I mean, he was jealous of everyone. Students that I talked to without snapping at 'em, any guy I'd ever even looked at twice - whether he knew 'em or not...even my brother, I think...seemed like he was jus' looking fer reasons not to be happy with me, after a while."

Ruckus/Duster:There is an appreciative groan for the returned attention on his neck, and now that he's in this position, he feels justified, like maybe he won something. He isn't used to this situation, not from any direction, and without said kid to beat up to make himself feel better, it's all rather confusing. "I don' like sharing you." He says simply, despite not having any claim over Leech with how distant he keeps himself these days, and god knows what he's doing in that time himself.

Leech:Leech's eyes narrow immediately for that reply, his hand stilling but not leaving Ruckus' neck. "I don't think it counts as 'sharing' if yer not around to have me." He doesn't sound quite as passive as before, but manages to keep most of the bitterness out of his voice due to Ruckus' current pathetic state, but his displeasure is obvious in the way he enunciates. "I hadn't seen you in months. I was pretty sure I'd never see you again. What'd you expect me to do, rely on battery-operated satisfaction until I was sure you were dead? Then maybe I'd run off and join a nunnery."

Ruckus/Duster:Ruckus is feeling a hum of anger drum beneath his skin, along with the tingle of drugs that make him forgive things more easily than he normally would. Learning of this 'Tim' fellow, though he clearly wasn't supposed to hear of such things in the first place, would have made his blood boil once upon a time, make him smash furniture and break bones, but now, well, times have changed. Leech sounds about like he usually does when he's trying to keep venom from his voice, and if his hand weren't resting on him still, Ruckus would be vacating his company to pace, "Didn' say I had any claim over ya, not now. An you'd look terrible in one'a those outfits."

Leech:As usual, Ruckus evades answering any of Leech's actual questions, but the parasite didn't really expect anything less. Instead of immediately snapping back, he gives a muted sigh and gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment, a nervous habit that he usually only manages to kick when Ruckus is not around. Finally, his thumb starts stroking along the nape of the man's neck again as he responds quietly. "I don' want you to like sharing me. I don' want ya to share me at all."

Ruckus/Duster:He's most excellent at that sort of thing, evading and keeping things in a place he's comfortable with, whether or not his company is on board. At Leech's continuation, he settles a little, though he rolls onto his back to look up at the creature for his response, "What if I was around more? Be different?" He looks a little skeptical, but continues, "This kid, he was yer's? So, it ain' the same, what we got." If Leech had a need to own someone, on the side of being owned, well that was something else, something Ruckus wasn't exactly in a position to give him.

Leech:Leech releases Ruckus' neck as he rolls over, but keeps that hand resting on his shoulder, giving him a flat sort of 'no shit' look for that first question. Though he tries not to be too obnoxious about it, he thought it was fairly obvious that he would love for Ruckus to be around more, and until Timothy there were definitely no contenders for attachment. The following query makes him narrow his eyes, in thought more than annoyance, as he sits back against the couch cushions more comfortably. "He said he was. I thought...that was what he wanted, er needed, really. But it isn' something I..." He trails off, looks away, and takes a moment to light a cigarette before admitting in a resigned tone: "I don' think I was very good at it."

Ruckus/Duster:Leech is starting to look a little more like he remembers from years ago, a little more the lost child who needed to be defended and looked after. A little more like someone who needed a Ruckus, despite Leech insisting he still did as much as ever. He would comment on the fact that Leech didn't seem so dominant, not in a formal state, would wonder what else he's gotten into in his time away, maybe he'd rather not know. "'s not easy." He mutters, reaching up for a turn on that cigarette, ignoring how their roles are reversed at the moment, even temporarily.

Leech:"No..." Leech shakes his head as agreement before glancing back at Ruckus and realizing that request for the smoke, holding the filter to his mouth. "I didn' figure it would be, but it was hard in ways I didn' expect. Did a lot better on the other side'a the leash." He retrieves the cigarette to take a drag and, realizing Ruckus probably doesn't want to hear much detail about either of those situations, tries again to brush it off. "It's not somethin' ya need to spend much time thinkin' about. There were problems enough before, an' now...I don' think he'll come crawlin back this time."

Ruckus/Duster:Ruckus hums appreciatively around the filter, exhaling off to the side before reaching up to graze his hand against Leech's throat, "Didn' put ya in a leash enough. Maybe 'oughta start now, keep ya close." He twists his mouth a little, though it could never be called a smile, "Would that make ya happy?" He drops his hand, settling it somewhere over his head, "Maybe I want him to. Maybe I wanna see him beg ya." He shrugs, "er maybe I just wanna beat his face in."

Leech:Leech gives a surprised derisive snort, eyes widening. "Keep me close? What, ya gunna take me along next time yer on the run from the law?" But it does sound nice, as impossible as it is, and though he doesn't say so it probably shows in the way he tilts his chin up encouragingly at even such a light touch on his throat. He continues the action to drop his head against the couch back, continuing to smoke and feed the cigarette to Ruckus periodically. "Don' think there'd be much begging involved. He's pretty pissed at he isn' the one that ran off to fuck someone else, after I told him not to."

Ruckus/Duster:Upon the next drag, he's quiet for a moment, shifting a little for comfort, "If I wasn' like this, I do that, fer you." He doesn't specify if it's his current injured state, or if it's his personality as a whole, the reluctantance to commit to anything that keeps him from moving on that idea. The reaction to the attention at Leech's neck is noted, grinning a little and again wishing he was in a state to hold Leech down by the throat and fuck him into the sofa cushions. "Were ya gonna tell me? 'bout him?"

Leech:Leech does think about questioning what, exactly, Ruckus means by 'like this', but eventually forbears, knowing he likely wouldn't get a straight answer. After feeding the man the last drag of the cigarette, he sits up, leaning over Ruckus to put it out in the ashtray on the table. "'course I was. Jus', like this." He straightens up, inching forward like he's going to stand up, though he doesn't request for Ruckus to move his head from his lap. "But at least now Kellen won' try to throw it in yer face and catch you off guard. For future reference, whatever that kid says, he's lyin." He's had enough of Kellen's unintentional interference in his affairs; surely the intentional, malicious kind would be even worse.

Ruckus/Duster:If he's skeptical of that promise, he doesn't show it, masking any recognition on his face by shifting out of Leech's lap and making a face at the discomfort it causes in trying to sit up himself. He takes a moment when he's moved, a few breaths to collect himself and force down the hurt, because right now he's feeling even more like his usual intimidating stature is being smothered, wanting his height and strength and sheer intimidation and hating himself when he can't just will them back. "I don' trust him." He says quickly, maybe with a little force to prove to himself that what Kellen says is just venom, but looking at someone so much like Leech but evil is a trying task.

Leech:Leech draws himself to his feet, hesitating momentarily for Ruckus' obvious difficulty but repressing a sympathetic wince, only chewing on the inside of his cheek again. Once he's relatively sure the man is okay, he follows his original plan of going to the kitchen, catching Ruckus' words on the way out and giving a quiet cough of a laugh. "'s good. Ya prolly shouldn't." He's well aware of the enmity between Ruckus and Kellen, more amused by it than anything, but not naive enough to think that it'll remain harmless. "Did ya eat today at all? Are you hungry?"

Ruckus/Duster:Finding a pillow to tuck under one side so he doesn't have to sit straight up or lay flat like a vegetable, he finds himself a little drowsy again, despite having napped for an unknown period of time throughout the day. Although it was in a not-so-restful position. Snorting for the comment about Kellen's integrity, he stays quiet, ignoring Leech's question, "Yer gettin' good at the 'it doesn' bother me' game. Was it me er someone else made yer poker face so sharp?"

Leech:Leech rolls his eyes to himself when Ruckus again avoids the question, snagging a stack of take-out menus on his way out of the kitchen and returning to the couch with them, and a glass of wine. Because he deserves it after that conversation. "Ahh, it was everything. You jus' showed me how it was s'posed to be done." The comment is flippant, but there's undoubtedly some truth to it; just nothing he feels like digging into too much. He tosses the menus onto Ruckus' chest like 52-card pick-up. "Find somethin' to eat."
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