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Post by Mr. Peace-and-Logic on Apr 3, 2010 0:45:01 GMT -5
As Scruffy entered the dwelling, Matt's eyes traveled around the dark apartment. The only light source was the window, where moonlight bathed the objects nearest to it with silvery brightness. "Do you think we should turn a lamp on, or is it bright enough?" asked the younger man, a hint of questioning in his tone. Scruffy thought about it for a minute - the moonlight was almost sufficient, but it was easily blocked out and wasn't very far reaching - before he replied, "Sure. It's kind of hard to see."
It soon became apparent to Scruffy that his attempt at steering the conversation wasn't working, because Matt gave him an incredulous, calculating look while he was still speaking. The darker-haired man's eyes flicked to the barista's anxious hair-fiddling, and then back up to the smile plastered on his features. "Scruffy, I can tell something's up. You might as well tell me what it's all about," he said, voice oddly serious. Scruffy's smirk faltered for a second; damn. He wasn't getting out of this one, was he?
"It's no big deal, Matt," said the auburn-haired man, once again attempting to dismiss the subject. He knew it wouldn't be nearly as easy as he hoped, due to his friend's exceptionally stubborn tendencies, but he had to give it a shot, at least. "I'm fine, really." To prove it, Scruffy offered Matt a more genuine smile, though he doubted it made a real difference. Matt wasn't the type to let things go easily; even his insistence wouldn't help make him drop the subject.
((Short lame post is short and lame.))
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Post by Alex on Apr 3, 2010 1:38:01 GMT -5
Matt fumbled along the wall for the lamp, praying desperately that he wouldn't encounter a pile of clothes or boxes. During the day, it was usually hard enough to maneuver away from them, but in the dark, getting entangled in an invisible mess of laundry and boxes and packing tape might prove to be impossible to get out of. Fortunately, the only thing he bumped into was his guitar case, and shortly thereafter, the lampshade. He felt along the underside of the frame until he found the pulltab, flooding the room with harsh yellow-orange light with a small tug. He winced against the sudden assault on his eyes, turning his back on the lamp and sauntering, squinting, back over to Scruffy.
"It's no big deal, Matt. I'm fine, really." Scruffy smiled as the musician returned. Matt crossed his arms, fixing the older man with a steady glare. "You. Are. Not. Fine. And even though this smile looks more convincing than the first one did, I'm not going to let you get away that easily. You have ten seconds to decide whether you're going to share what's bothering you, or whether you'd rather have me threaten it out of you."
His dark eyes were unwavering, as was his voice, but Matt hoped desperately that Scruffy wouldn't catch on to his bluff. Threaten him? With WHAT? It wasn't like he had any embarrassing blackmail pictures to use: if anything, Scruffy probably had some of Matt that he could use to counter with. Maybe he'd be able to use a threat such as not talking to him for the next week. Surely that would get his point across?
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Post by Mr. Peace-and-Logic on Apr 3, 2010 2:14:24 GMT -5
Eyes assaulted with the sudden light, Scruffy squinted his eyes and held up a hand as a shield. Even though the warm, yellow-tinged light comforted him, and would make things a lot easier to see, the initial brightness still stung. It seemed he wasn't the only one affected, though - Matt, though walking back over to his friend with excellent balance, was squinting his dark eyes as well.
The effects of the light soon wore off, and Matt was left standing in an almost intimidating position. He stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest, and his now wider eyes glaring sternly at the auburn man. Coupled with his height and the light behind him, the dark-haired musician looked rather imposing. Scruffy raised an eyebrow; if he hadn't been such good friends with Matt, he might have felt a small twinge of fear for his well-being. However, he simply dreaded the next words out of his friend's mouth - there was no way he could take that stance and not mean business. "You. Are. Not. Fine," Matt practically hissed, "And even though this smile looks more convincing than the first one did, I'm not going to let you get away that easily. You have ten seconds to decide whether you're going to share what's bothering you, or whether you'd rather have me threaten it out of you."
Scruffy's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs at this, and his smile immediately disappeared. Ten seconds? Jeez, that was barely enough time to even consider the situation! His initial reaction was to just spill the beans about his nightmare - and, in association, the childhood incident - but he couldn't admit to such a ridiculous fear. Though his ten-second clock was ticking, Scruffy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair once more. "Kid, I...look, it's..." Dammit, he was struggling to find the words to explain this without sounding like a complete and total wi-
Hold the phone. Threaten? Matt was going to threaten it out of him?
"Wait a second, kid," Scruffy said, a quizzical look replacing the somewhat cautious frown that had settled on his features. "Threaten me with what?" The more the coyote-shifter thought about it, the less he could come up with something Matt could use against him. He never really got drunk or stupid enough to have embarrassing photos, he didn't have any mortifying secrets he had spilled (though Matt was real close to learning this one), and the younger man held no real position over him. Yeah, he could manipulate their friendship, but would he really do that? Scruffy somewhat doubted that he would.
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Post by Alex on Apr 3, 2010 3:05:14 GMT -5
Matt tapped one bare foot impatiently as Scruffy nervously stuttered out an excuse. "Kid, I...look, it's..." It's wasting time, that's what it is. You've got five seconds left. Matt's tired mind slowly worked its way around to the conclusion that when Scruffy's timer reached zero, Matt would have to do something. And the young man STILL didn't know of a way to threaten Scruffy. The threat of threatening him was his only real plan, and once ten seconds were up, that plan would have failed him.
Through a stroke of bad fortune, Scruffy reached the same conclusion.
"Wait a second, kid," Scruffy interrupted. "Threaten me with what?"
"Um. Good question." Matt replied shortly, glancing around the room for any possible thing he could use to persuade Scruffy to tell him. Unfortunately, nothing showed itself immediately, and Matt was left with nothing but his bold stance to back up the threat in his words.
"Lets just say this; I will FIND a way of making you tell me if you don't do it on your own free will." Matt eyed him sternly, wishing that Scruffy would just give in and not make the musician have to go through all these extra steps.
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Post by Mr. Peace-and-Logic on Apr 3, 2010 3:28:08 GMT -5
Scruffy stared incredulously at the dark haired man before him, mind blank with surprise. "Um. Good question," Matt had said, giving dubious glances around the small apartment for inspiration. Honestly, if Scruffy were feeling a little less paranoid, he would have been laughing his head off. The kid was threatening to threaten him with something he hadn't even thought of yet. The ex-bartender's sleep-deprived, overworked mind registered this as hilarious, but all he could bring himself to do was smile and chuckle weakly.
Apparently, even Scruffy's amused reaction didn't deter the younger man in the least, because he resumed fixing his friend with a stern glare. "Lets just say this; I will FIND a way of making you tell me if you don't do it on your own free will," he said in a low voice, attempting to make his promise sound even somewhat plausible. Scruffy quirked an eyebrow at him and leaned against the wall, his weariness starting to catch up with him.
"I'm sorry kid," began the barista, offering a smile to his darker-haired companion, "but I can't really take your 'threat' seriously. You don't have anything on me." Besides the fact you're my best friend and I currently can't go back to my apartment without freaking the hell out, thought Scruffy, knowing perfectly well that there WERE things Matt could use as incentive. But I think I'll keep that information to myself. No need to arm the enemy.
...but is he really the enemy? Scruffy had to wonder. Sure, talking about the nightmare would be a totally sissy move, and would make him subject to much mocking later on, but Matt was genuinely concerned. He wasn't trying to gain leverage, or anything petty like that, he was just trying to help his friend out. The ex-bartender felt a twinge of guilt at this thought; he was pushing away someone who actually wanted to help fix what was wrong. Scruffy lifted his gaze to meet Matt's eyes - a first for that night - and decided that if Matt couldn't come up with a reasonable threat, he would spill anyway. He owed him that much, at least, for going through that kind of trouble.
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Post by Alex on Apr 3, 2010 4:00:40 GMT -5
"I'm sorry kid," was the reply, and Matt clenched his jaw in annoyance. "I can't really take your 'threat' seriously. You don't have anything on me."
As much as Matt wanted to be able to shout back that he DID have something on him, and that he WOULD use it, he knew he couldn't. He was irked that Scruffy had called his bluff, and now the young musician felt that his credibility at sticking to his threats had been overturned. It certainly wasn't something that made him feel any more confident in his ability to make Scruffy talk.
Dammit, why couldn't he just AGREE to talk in the first place? Then maybe Matt's pride wouldn't have suffered the unintended blow. The dark-haired man was prepared to give Scruffy another harsh verbal warning when suddenly the other man's eyes met his own. Only when they made contact did Matt realize that it was the first time that night that Scruffy had actually looked at him. Was this some kind of key turning point? Maybe he was willing to spill the beans now.
Or maybe it was a defiant look, meant to tell Matt that unless he had a valid threat, he wouldn't ever learn about what had been on Scruffy's mind. The younger male could feel his frustration simmering, and promptly responded.
"Says who? Maybe I DO have something on you, and you just don't know it," he growled, none-too-gently shoving Scruffy back up against the wall. He raised an arm and jabbed the man in the chest with his finger, drawing his face dangerously close to the other's. "You WILL tell me what this is all about, or else you WILL force me to find it out the hard way."
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Post by Mr. Peace-and-Logic on Apr 3, 2010 4:23:20 GMT -5
The older male grunted as he was unexpectedly shoved up against a wall, back protesting at the amount of force behind the push. Matt was obviously irritated now, seeing as he then poked Scruffy square in the chest and stuck his face in the other man's. It was a display of intimidation, much like his stance had been before, even though the barista had an inch or two on him. "You WILL tell me what this is all about, or else you WILL force me to find it out the hard way," he practically snarled, glaring angrily at the older man.
Scruffy, though he had been feeling particularly vulnerable moments before, was now returning his friend's glare with just as much anger. He appreciated the effort, really, but he did not like the sudden animosity. So he called the kid's bluff, big deal. He thought Matt was mature enough to take the small hit to his ego. Evidently, I was wrong, he thought darkly. "You know what, kid?" he growled, voice low with the sudden tension between them. Part of him realized they were probably that much more irritable with the mutual lack of sleep, but the rest of him didn't care. "I'm out of here."
Side stepping Matt to free himself of the intense glaring contest, the coyote-shifter stepped back over to the door. In truth, his courage suddenly fled him as he put his hand on the doorknob, but you couldn't tell by looking at him. He really didn't want to leave - his mind was screaming at him that his apartment was not safe, there was no one there to help him - but he remained stoic and silent, eyes fixated on the glass in the door. He resisted the urge to reach up and fiddle with his ponytail as he wrestled with his pride and his rationality. Swallow his ego and stay, spilling the entire story to Matt? Or leave and spend the rest of the night avoiding his own apartment? It didn't seem like a tough choice, but it was.
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Post by Alex on Apr 3, 2010 5:29:59 GMT -5
The sudden hostility in Scruffy's voice stunned Matt, and he staggered back a step as Scruffy shoved past him. "I'm out of here." He growled, moving towards the door and leaving the shocked musician standing where he was.
What. The HELL.
That certainly wasn't the reaction he had been counting on, although it WAS one that had briefly been considered in his mind. But he never thought that Scruffy would be so...offended by that direct of an attack. Maybe that was a completely different side of the man that Matt didn't know. Some...really scary-ass intimidating side that actually managed to hurt the musician with its abrupt severeness. It sort of felt like how a little kid would feel defiant and hurt after being embarrassed in front of others. That same kind of dismay. He was taken aback by Scruffy's anger, because it was something much more new to him.
Matt looked up to where Scruffy had hesitated, one hand on the handle. Matt studied the brief moment that the other man seemed almost uncertain of his decision. In that second, he thought he might have understood what caused the flash of anger, although it could DEFINITELY be wrong, such as his presumption that intimidating Scruffy directly would have been a smart idea in the first place.
Slipping quickly in front of the door, he met Scruffy's eyes, this time without the stern threat that had been there before. "I'm sorry, man. That wasn't right of me. But I'm really worried and just want to know what's going on with you."
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Post by Mr. Peace-and-Logic on Apr 3, 2010 6:00:41 GMT -5
In the brief moment that Scruffy had waited, trying to find a solution, Matt stepped in front of door and caught his eyes. The first thing the barista did was look away - he didn't want to make eye contact, partially because he was still a little angry, mostly because we felt weak and cowardly and ashamed - and the second was to pull his hand away and step back from the door. "I'm sorry, man. That wasn't right of me," the dark haired male began, sending another pang of guilt through Scruffy. "But I'm really worried and just want to know what's going on with you."
The ex-bartender finally quelled his nervous habit by reaching up to mess with the locks of hair resting on his shoulder. All the previous tension and anger dissipated into silence, and finally, Scruffy managed to offer Matt a weak, thin smile. "I...was going to tell you anyway, if you couldn't come up with a real threat," he admitted, tone bordering on half-attempted humor. At least this was a pretty effective distraction. "That kind of failed when we both flew off the handle, but...when you apologize like that, you make me feel like a douche bag."
Glancing around in the yellow-bathed apartment, Scruffy tried calming himself down by examining random objects on Matt's messy floor. Stacks of folders, all in disarray; a stray shoe that he probably kicked off when he got in the door; a pair of - wait, were those heart boxers? What the hell? Scruffy laughed shakily and returned his gaze to the dark-haired musician, now sufficiently recovered from the spell of tension they had experienced. "If I tell you about what's wrong, will we still talk about the song that's been bugging you?" he asked, tone much closer to his usual, carefree voice.
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Post by Alex on Apr 4, 2010 0:05:51 GMT -5
Matt felt relief shoot through him as Scruffy stepped back from the door. Although the other man still avoided his gaze, Matt was fine with that. The eye contact wasn't nearly as important as knowing that Scruffy wasn't about to storm out of his apartment. Matt watched silently as Scruffy nervously fingered his hair, looking like he was piecing together words to form a reply. Matt waited, nervously wondering what the older man was feeling. Probably still pissed.
"I...was going to tell you anyway, if you couldn't come up with a real threat," the barista admitted with a small smile. Matt saw the horrible irony and forced himself to take it in good stride. All that wouldn't have happened if Matt hadn't tried to threaten the truth out of Scruffy? Splendid. "That kind of failed when we both flew off the handle, but...when you apologize like that, you make me feel like a douche bag."
Matt let out a shaky sigh and drummed his fingers in pensive thought along his jawline. The older man had a point about them both loosing their cool, but in Matt's opinion, he needn't put himself down over what had just happened. It was more of Matt's fault than the auburn-haired man's, anyway. "Scruffy, you're not a douche bag. So you shouldn't feel like one."
The young musician raised an eyebrow quizzically as Scruffy's attention drifted around the room for a moment before laughing suddenly. Matt considered turning around and looking for whatever had made him chuckle, but he figured that maybe it was better off left alone. Anyway, now Scruffy seemed a lot more relaxed from the break in the tension, and Matt followed his example and shook it off, putting it behind him.
"If I tell you about what's wrong, will we still talk about the song that's been bugging you?" Scruffy asked, much to the surprise of the dark-haired man.
"I'm a bit surprised that you care to talk about the song so much, but yeah, sure. If that's what it takes to get you to open up, then fine."
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