somewhere behind him, francie is making her way out of the bar, back out into the mall-like expanse beyond the old-timey doors.

somewhere behind him, the door to the men's bathroom swings for someone that isn't him, someone that doesn't know that bathroom like he does.

somewhere behind him, zeke's decision to go back to the hotel early to get back to lilycove was lying there abandoned.

everything is behind him except the one face he's been staring at all night, the one that looks like it is made of porcelain. as he gets closer to him, something tells him the porcelain has been shattered and taped back together thousands of times over. it only allures him more.

it takes a minimal amount of weaving and some liquid courage to get him over to the guy, but here they are, face to face. his burly arms slide across the bar top as a means to support him, eyes straight ahead for a second before looking up at the guy with a meager grin.

the stance could not be more casual -- neither could zeke's intentions.

"need a drink?"

his gaze falls upon the drink in the guy's hand, eyes widening imperceptibly as he realizes the faux pas. in his distraction with everything going on above the drink (above the neck, specifically), zeke failed to noticed its presence. a laugh rises out of his throat, nearly breaking into existence before an interruption screws up zeke's face.

glass shatters over the man's shoulder, beer skittering across the floor like mice. the shock of the move paralyzes zeke for an instant, his eyes bouncing from the other man's, down to the floor, back up to the other man's.

an impish grin fights its way onto his visage. "you look parched. let me get you something." he flags down the bartender, though it isn't the one from before -- zeke can hear that one muttering under his breathing as he proclaims himself the one responsible for cleaning that up. "two gin and tonics." his own glass is empty, the beer eager to be replaced with gin to keep him from getting too bloated.

"i'm zeke." his body stands upright, forearms shoving off the countertop to bring him to his full height. zeke pushes his right hand out in front of the guy, thrusting his body after it. though he awaits a handshake, his shoulder already brushes against the guy's, the distance between them greatly diminished such that a phone book could not fit between them.

"so nice to meet you."

[attr="class","zeke"]zeke fancies himself a forward man -- he does not skirt around the point, beat around the bush. not with this stuff, anyways.

but his eyes can't help but widen unexpectedly as the guy, abner, grabs his waist. mild embarrassment urges his gaze to scan the room for observers as he stands center stage, but the magnetism of abner's allure keeps zeke centered on his prize.

aside from the ocular muscles that bounce his eyes between abner's, not a muscle in his body moves. this is an entrancement, it's a mystical curse, but he doesn't care. nowhere in his mind does he think of fernando and getting back to work like he promised he would.

his tongue dances over his upper lip, perhaps a subconscious materialization of his desires. with abner's hand gone from his waist, zeke still does not find the courage to move. or, perhaps it is the cowardice to run.

the line between them blurs. "is that so?" it's a flirty little line, one he's said plenty of times before.

"you're welcome, then. for giving you such immense pleasure." gone is the stoicism, gone is the tough guy. gone is any form of inhibition, and all that remains is pure tension waiting to be fulfilled.

[attr="class","zeke"]abner turns away from him, pulling zeke out of his lull for a moment. the tension releases with a cacophony of coughs, and his "fuck me" face falls away into one of mild concern. zeke says nothing though; he is given no opportunity. abner dives back in, apparently not disrupted by his own coughing fit. it's zeke's turn to raise an amused eyebrow, this one more impish than devious.

a chuckle escapes the barely open lips and his face drops to the ground for an instant, as if to mask the laughter. it rises up to search for any sign of joking from abner, but the facial analysis turns up nothing. "a pants party?" the chuckle rises into a laugh, and he takes a swig of abner's drink that he said he was done with.

"i can show you back to my place, if you promise not to choke out on me." the mauville apartment he had when he still worked here had been signed for a year, despite being based in lilycove now. things change, people change, but leases are forever.

or at least for a year.

he doesn't care for an answer. closing his tab takes an instant but the time passes in slow motion. the debit card disappears into zeke's pocket while his free hand grips itself loosely around abner's forearm to drag him out of the bar and into the "open" mauville air.

[attr="class","zeke"]subtlety is neither zeke's nor abner's strong suit, it seems. the offhand comment earns an eye roll from zeke, not that abner can see it. his hand is still fastened around abner's arm, sliding down to his wrist and then finally letting go as they make their way further and further from the bar. the walk won't be long -- the reason zeke went there in the first place was for proximity purposes.

certainly not aesthetic purposes.

"not a local. came here for work and expected to stay longer than i did. i live in lilycove now. i'm sure you're so interested." the minutiae of his day to day life and what he does for a living does not feel important in this moment, so he skips over it.

plus, explaining his job feels impossible because even he himself does not know exactly what it is that he does. professional muscle? whatever.

the complex comes upon them quickly and zeke buzzes them in swiftly. they're lucky the walk is commute is quick and that the tension remains withstands an atmosphere outside of a crowded, noisy bar.

zeke swings the door open and points in. "make yourself at home."

[attr="class","zeke"]letting someone into your home can be an intimate window into your essence, an object of trust between the two of you.

zeke does not feel this way. the apartment is as much abner's as it is his own -- walking into it, the key crashes down onto the table by the door and his eyes scan it with disinterest. it has good bones, or so they say, but most of the place's added charm has been transplanted to lilycove.

dust covers the furniture that wasn't good enough to make it aboard the moving truck, and a finger tracks along it just as abner comments. "it's been weeks, but it was a good enough place to sle-...oh." he'd taken his eye off the other guy long enough not to notice he was half naked already. zeke eyes him hungrily, unbuttoning a single button of his own shirt before giving up with a joking sigh.

"wow, i'm just so tired. you know? don't know if i'll be able to...manage..." his eyes fall down to the shirt, hairs popping out where it has opened, before climbing back up to abner.

zeke's back leans against the wall that separates the living area from the bedroom, a smirk attached to his visage, lust shrouding his vision.

[attr="class","zeke"]abner's taking the lead? zeke looks at him for a moment, smirk still on his face despite his eyes being out of focus. abner 'taking the lead' wasn't really he meant by being too tired -- it was a lame attempt to get abner to take his shirt off for him.

but zeke doesn't care who leads. ever, really. a softened smile sits on his face while he lets abner do with him what he pleases, head tilting up while the other man's lips presses against his neck. zeke lets it go on for a moment before lightly pushing abner away.

"you're in charge, then." the feigned lack of energy disappears along with his shirt, which lands somewhere on the rather barren living room floor. he slips around the corner into the bedroom, knowing that abner will follow after him.

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