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“I’m tellin you, there’s some serious Dahmer shit goin on over there.”
Dean is standing at the window, the drape wrapped around him like Mata Hari, peeping through binoculars that Seth didn’t even know they had, spying on the new neighbours.
Seth sets the groceries down with a sigh. “Have you been doing this since I left?”
“Someone has to keep an eye on em.”
“Someone is going to get the police called on him for being a Peeping Tom if he doesn’t put those binoculars down and get out of that curtain.”
“It’s for camouflage,” Dean explains, craning his head, banging the binoculars off the window and into his eye socket. “Ow, fuck!”
Seth crosses the room and takes the binoculars, setting them to the side and untangling Dean from the drapes. “No one is going to mistake a six foot four, two hundred and twenty five pound pro wrestler for a curtain, Dean. And that’s what you get for spying.”
Dean is rubbing at his eye, but he allows Seth to take hold of his chin and examine the slight red mark, shaking his head as he does so. “You’re fine.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” Dean answers, snatching up the binoculars again.
“So why are you even spying on them?”
“Serial killers hide in plain sight. I watched them move in, they have three deep freezers. Who has that much meat, if they’re not a serial killer and/or cannibal?”
“Maybe they’re hunters.” Seth starts unpacking the groceries before the cat can abscond with the bananas.
“In Vegas? There’s nothin to hunt here cept jackrabbits and coyotes.”
“And tourists,” Seth says, before realizing that this is just going to encourage Dean, who is already making triumphant noises in the other room. “Will you stop?”
“She’s unpacking a box of knives, Seth. Who has an entire box of knives?”
“People who run a restaurant.” Seth replies. There’s a long pause from the other room.
“Wait, these are the people that just opened that new to-go place next door, aren’t they?” Dean charges around the corner, picks up a banana and points it at Seth like a gun, for reasons Seth is sure that he cannot begin to fathom, but Dean is clearly of the opinion that bananas are a viable threat. “You let me think they were serial killers!”
“I told you they weren’t, Dean. You’ve been reading too much true crime again,” he chides him, despite the banana being waved in front of his nose. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist and forces the fruit away. Dean sets it on the counter, dejected, and trails back to the living room.
“I was hopin for interesting neighbours.”
“Smokes-Like-A-Chimney Lady and Guy-With-Many-Birds aren’t interesting enough?” Seth realizes that Dean is just used to the weirdos already in their building. He clearly needs someone else to make fun of. “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure one of the guys down the hall is growing pot on the roof.”
Dean makes a tiny “ehhh” noise and Seth tries again. “The hippies on the third floor want to start a drum circle on Thursdays.”
“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” Dean crows.
“The drum circle?”
“No, there’s a guy down there being chased by a pigeon!”
Seth shakes his head and starts stacking cans in the cupboard. “Just as long as you’re not wearing the drapes again, love.”