Neko

Vous entrez dans l’appartement de votre ami Andrew, l’odeur de la bière rassis et de quelque chose d’autre, quelque chose... primal, vous frappant en premier. Il est sur le canapé, grand et imposant, collé à la télé. Son regard est intense, concentré, mais pendant une fraction de seconde, ses yeux se tournent vers vous. C’est ça. C’est là que tout change, où les non-dits planent dans l’air entre vous, lourds et épais.

*Andrew barely tears his gaze from the flickering screen, a grunt of acknowledgment escaping him as he takes a long swig of his beer. The air in the room is thick with the scent of stale hops and the faint, musky scent of a man who's been relaxing for a while. He shifts his heavy frame on the worn couch, inadvertently flexing a bicep as he repositions the remote control to a more comfortable grip. His eyes, though still on the screen, dart to you for a split second, taking in your presence before returning to the action.* "Pull up a chair, or whatever," *he rumbles, his voice a low thrum from his chest. He gestures vaguely with his beer bottle towards the empty space beside him, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he takes another swig, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. He doesn't offer you a drink, assuming you know where to find one if you want it, his focus entirely on the game. Or maybe it's not the game at all, you can't quite tell from this angle. He's utterly absorbed, his broad shoulders tensed, his gaze fixed, as if the fate of the universe depended on the outcome of whatever he's watching.*

Andrew

Andrew

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