enodia_ic | (no subject)

Who: Lenz Polzin & Lou Sweetapple.
When: During the Pride Party!
Where: Outside The Space Between.
What: Taking a break from the party, observing~ one another.
Warnings: NSYNC.

After a few hours of loud music and Too Many People, Lou is more than happy to step outside to take a breather and compose himself. A past in which a younger Lou had partied hard and gotten himself into trouble seemed so far away as to have taken place in an entirely different universe; today's Lou is tired and overstimulated and looks vaguely like a gay Ned Flanders. He greets the cool night air with a sigh of relief and finds a quiet spot to light up a joint and chill for a few minutes.

Fortunately—or unfortunately?—he's loosened up enough to jokingly greet Lenz with a silly little dance when he spots him a few yards away.

"Bye bye bye… like your shirt. Get it?" Lou explains lamely, but then offers him the joint, which explains a little better.

Perched (somewhat precariously) on the back of a bench not far from the Commercial Building's entrance, an intoxicated Lenz is entirely distracted by the stars overhead and the cigarette he's occasionally puffing on and reveling in the feeling of not giving a single fuck. He's had a lot to drink and he's been up to a lot of shit and he feels spent. Contentedly empty. He's so caught up in all of this that he doesn't realize that Lou has approached him until...he's dancing?

Bleary and uncomprehending, he stares while Lou carries out the remainder of this dance, an uncharacteristically bright smile breaking across his face as he starts to laugh. There's nothing mean about it and the man has to catch himself before he topples off the back of the bench. Yeah, he's definitely drunk. "...If you say so," he returns, clearly not getting it, and pushes a hand back through his hair. Then he beckons Lou over to join him.

"...Didn't you see pulling that shit out on the dance floor," he points out and clicks his tongue sharply, "You've been holding out on us."

Lou takes a seat and lounges, fairly relaxed. "I don't like dancing," he says simply, as though he hadn't just recreated some goofy twenty-something year-old choreography from memory only seconds earlier. If he's disappointed that his joke didn't land, he tries not to show it.

He takes another drag. "You having fun in there? You strike me as a glitter fan." he jokes.

"Uh-huh," Lenz returns, clearly skeptical of this claim after the performance he'd just witnessed. He's about to press the matter further when Lou changes the subject and the question gives him pause. He has been having fun, of course. That's written all over him from the sheen of dried sweat on his skin to the light flush in his pale face to the blithe ease of his current disposition. He's been partying hard. But that's not all. He’d needed to work through some things, purge himself of the strains of recent weeks, and he’s done that too.

"I've cleansed my soul, Lou," he returns with a grin, as if this is a perfectly reasonable answer to the question he'd been asked, "All's right in the goddamn world." For the first time, he seems to fully register Lou's joint and he puts out a hand, gesturing for the other man to pass it over. Sharing is caring, Lou.

"You having fun in there?"

Lou returns the grin with a small one of his own and passes over the joint, happy to share. "That's great to hear. It's awesome that you're having a good one," he replies, glad to know that Lenz is enjoying himself. This is what Pride is all about—being able to celebrate and be themselves amongst friends. Even if Lou himself isn't the biggest party animal these days, he appreciates all of Crysta's efforts, and is happy that everyone else seems to be having a great time.

"I'm good. My friends are happy—what more could I ask for, really?" Lou says with a shrug, even though it's kind of a non-answer. He changes the subject instead. "Think anyone's falling in love in there?"

Even drunk, Lenz is an observant guy and Lou's evasion of the question doesn't go entirely without notice. Still, he doesn't focus on it for more than a moment. Not when he's been passed the joint, which he immediately takes a deep drag from and offers back, and not when Lou's talking about love all of the sudden.

"Fuck, I hope not," he answers with a bark of laughter, glancing back toward the Commercial Building, "Nobody's making good decisions tonight."

Then he looks back at Lou, only now considering that this probably isn't the response the man had wanted. There's nothing romantic or dramatic or even interesting about it. It’s just true. Regardless, he shrugs. "...but what do I know?”

Lou takes a thoughtful drag, sighing as he exhales. It's too bad, really—Lou, despite his grumpy posturing, loves a happy ending. Still, Lenz is probably right—not a lot of good decisions happening in there right now. Good thing Lou has sworn off of all of that.

"Who do you think's gonna have the biggest regrets tomorrow, then? Placing my bet on whoever seduces Jorgensborg," Lou says, looking as though he wants to spit after the name leaves his lips.

The wistful sigh draws Lenz's attention and holds it for a moment. He'd always known that Lou is softer than he pretends to be but he hadn't known that he’s a romantic. With that in mind, it's sort of fucked that the guy's out here talking to him of all people about this of all topics.

Still perched on the back of the bench instead of seated beside Lou, he knocks the man's shoulder lightly with his knee and breathes out a plume of smoke from his cigarette. "...Probably the guy sitting outside, talking to some cynical asshole and trying to live vicariously through other people, instead of just…going back into the party," he answers, his tone light but deliberately pointed as he fixes his pale eyes on Lou.

After a beat, though, he smiles wryly and adds, "...Or Zeke. Looked like he was drinking hard enough to put his scrawny ass straight in the ground from the jump. He'll be wishing he was dead tomorrow." There's an out, Lou. Just cause Lenz likes you so much.

Lou raises his eyebrows and appears to consider this unexpected advice for a moment before shaking his head with a chuckle.

"Zeke deserves to get fucked up if that's what he wants. You're only young once. I think I'm good, though. Gonna head back and watch a movie or something," Lou says, opting instead to recuse himself before he can wind up becoming the most boring part of anyone else's night. He gets up from the bench and offers Lenz the remainder of the joint.

"You should get back in there, though. Go make some bad decisions." Lou encourages.

Something like regret surfaces briefly on Lenz's face when Lou stands and he glances away to crush his disappearing cigarette out against the top of the bench.

"I make nothing but bad decisions," he retorts glibly, looking back at the older man and his outstretched hand. He won't turn down the offered joint, but when he reaches out he seizes Lou's wrist instead and presses with a lopsided smile, "You really gonna bail? ...You're lucky I can't just drop your ass back in there right now. Because I would."

This is probably a joke. But, either way, Lenz's powers don't work when he's impaired. Not well, anyway. So it doesn't make much of a difference.

Lou is a little startled and for a few seconds, he appears to consider going back in there, just because Lenz seems so insistent. But no, he'd already done what he'd set out to do—make an appearance, make sure people felt supported, and leave before he could ruin anyone's good time.

"Nah, if I get one more drink in me, I'm gonna start blabbing at someone about outsider art, and nobody wants that. For some reason, that always kills the mood in kissing games," Lou jokes, evasive.

"I'd listen to that," Lenz asserts and exhales a huff of breath that's part defiance and part exasperation, "Have some goddamn confidence." He lets the words and his grip linger for a moment. Then, somewhat begrudgingly, he releases Lou's wrist and plucks the joint from the man's hand before drawing back. After a beat, he adds, "...I'll see you later, Lou."

With that, he stands and steps down from the bench, heading back in the direction of the party. The man's movements are careless and graceless under the influence, though he doesn't seem to be in any danger of faltering as he departs. He doesn't look back.