Winona
No, I don't have too many characters.
Drake
There was a lot going on, and Drake had the attention span of a gnat and the shakiness of like a squirrel that knew it was being hunted. The guy at the door took the cane, and with nothing in his hands to try and distract him, his fingers started tapping against his thighs. He played a little melody in his head, trying to steady nerves that he didn't even know needed steadying.
Alex talked with the guys, and Drake just kinda stood there, tapping and stressing and waiting for an opportunity to leave. His gaze moved past the guy at the door to look inside the house and holy fuck. It was fancy. Alex was talking again, and then he was starting to leave and Drake knew that he needed to follow him.
It was probably for the best -- Drake's leg was now shaking, and then he was tapping his foot, and he wanted to stop moving but he felt like if he stopped moving, he might just explode. Or implode. Maybe he could get out of riding back with Alex. Say he had business in the neighborhood, but a Drake walking through the neighborhood with ripped, too-big jeans and a gray hoodie that had a stain on the front, and sneakers that definitely needed to be trashed would probably end up with the cops being called on him. But he needed to be active. Go for a run or something, anything to stave the craving that he felt.
Alex was slipping, and then he was falling, and then he was standing up and trying to talk and Drake had no fucking idea what was going on, or what the fuck to do. There was blood. Drake didn't deal with blood! Mason dealt with blood, with bleeding people. Drake just froze in these situations. Maybe if he wasn't so tense, he could handle this.
The rich people seemed to know how to handle this. One of the guys was out there helping him up, insisting that Alex go inside, and then there was a girl rushing out, too. At least they seemed to have this handled, because Drake most definitely had no idea what was going on or what to do. His eyes were still glued to Alex, and then the girl was talking to him.
Did she just invite him in?
Fuck.
"Uh. Y-yeah, sure. Come in. I'll come in." His words were mumbled and jumbled and fell out of his mouth in a strange waterfall of nonsense. Drake pressed his tongue up against his teeth, and let the sharp pain calm him for a moment.
But just a moment, before the shaking and tip tapping of his fingers against his leg returned. He moved closer to Alex, looking quizzically at the blood on the back of his head. "I dunno. Maybe you just need ice."
TYPE Braddington ailurophile Hypnos
There was a lot going on, and Drake had the attention span of a gnat and the shakiness of like a squirrel that knew it was being hunted. The guy at the door took the cane, and with nothing in his hands to try and distract him, his fingers started tapping against his thighs. He played a little melody in his head, trying to steady nerves that he didn't even know needed steadying.
Alex talked with the guys, and Drake just kinda stood there, tapping and stressing and waiting for an opportunity to leave. His gaze moved past the guy at the door to look inside the house and holy fuck. It was fancy. Alex was talking again, and then he was starting to leave and Drake knew that he needed to follow him.
It was probably for the best -- Drake's leg was now shaking, and then he was tapping his foot, and he wanted to stop moving but he felt like if he stopped moving, he might just explode. Or implode. Maybe he could get out of riding back with Alex. Say he had business in the neighborhood, but a Drake walking through the neighborhood with ripped, too-big jeans and a gray hoodie that had a stain on the front, and sneakers that definitely needed to be trashed would probably end up with the cops being called on him. But he needed to be active. Go for a run or something, anything to stave the craving that he felt.
Alex was slipping, and then he was falling, and then he was standing up and trying to talk and Drake had no fucking idea what was going on, or what the fuck to do. There was blood. Drake didn't deal with blood! Mason dealt with blood, with bleeding people. Drake just froze in these situations. Maybe if he wasn't so tense, he could handle this.
The rich people seemed to know how to handle this. One of the guys was out there helping him up, insisting that Alex go inside, and then there was a girl rushing out, too. At least they seemed to have this handled, because Drake most definitely had no idea what was going on or what to do. His eyes were still glued to Alex, and then the girl was talking to him.
Did she just invite him in?
Fuck.
"Uh. Y-yeah, sure. Come in. I'll come in." His words were mumbled and jumbled and fell out of his mouth in a strange waterfall of nonsense. Drake pressed his tongue up against his teeth, and let the sharp pain calm him for a moment.
But just a moment, before the shaking and tip tapping of his fingers against his leg returned. He moved closer to Alex, looking quizzically at the blood on the back of his head. "I dunno. Maybe you just need ice."
TYPE Braddington ailurophile Hypnos