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The morning begins with a splitting headache, spearing through his skull with the full power of the nastiest hangover. He’s already groaning miserably as his eyes blink open.
“Ughhh…” sitting up feels like a monumental task. And somehow, the soft green light of the Floor of Art has barely any effect on the pain. The physical pull of a migraine is actively fighting against the rest of his body. Whyy did he even do this again..
The answer to that is already by his side, pressing a cold can into his hand. His fingers close around it with a speed only won by instinct.
“Morning.” That same soft monotone against his senses. He hears the can open with a fizz before it’s already on his lips, feeding him beer as if it were much needed medicine. Which might as well be true, because the ache in his bones clears more with each gulp.
“Mn.. morning.” Roland’s own voice is still groggy with sleep, the world ever so slowly returning to focus around him. His usual suit and gloves are long gone, discarded somewhere on the floor several drinks ago. It doesn’t really matter. The other man, his lifeline is pulling the can away to sip on it himself. Dull green hair partially escaping his bun only to land on a white shirt. His coat’s gone too. They’re such a mess.
“You’re up early..” the words slurr together unabashedly. No need to hide. It’s quite freeing, letting himself be so openly broken down. His fellow patron’s eyes hold nothing but keen understanding.
“One of us’s gotta be.” The same can is passed back to his stabling grip. There’s a subtle chemical aftertaste that always follows anything touched by the green-haired man. Likely a consequence of his strange biology. It took some time to get used to, but now the familiar feeling only triggers further relaxation. Tastes like Netzach.
“Anything in mind today? Besides this” he motions vaguely with the now empty can. There’s a hum, and those mesmerising brown eyes light up a little.
“A hot bath sounds nice. We just throw some bottles in there and a boombox to the side.” How hot, though.. hopefully their preferences don’t differ enough to burn him alive. He’ll have to trust the other man on that. Wait. He blinks.
“A bath..? Like with our clothes off and all?”
“Not really. Since it can’t actually rain in here, the feeling of wet clothes is pretty unique..” there’s a lengthy pause like Netzach just had an epiphany in the middle of that train of thought. “Unless you just wanna see me naked. That’s fine too.”
“Huh..” it is? Well. Anyway that other thing he said was interesting too, one of the few things they still haven’t done together. Might be worth a try. “Yeah, sounds good.”
It takes a bit longer for his legs to cooperate, very lightly clinging to the other man for the first few steps. He tries his best to not lean on Netzach, a habit learned the hard way after a few too many times of him caving under Roland’s weight and both of them immediately falling. It’s a little inconvenient at times.
But it doesn’t take long until he’s being whisked through a door and deposited onto the tiled floor below. The sound of running water only seems to make him sleepier.
“C’monnn, up with you” he’s barely awake by the time there’s more movement, insistent tugging at his sleeve until Roland heaves himself up again. The tub is mostly full. And it’s misting up the air with steam.
Operating with the full intelligence of someone hungover and half-awake, he tests the water with his hand. And immediately pulls it back.
“What the hell..” he hisses, quickly waving the burn away.
“It’s only bad when you take it slow” the voice comes from his side, clearly waiting for him to take the plunge first. “Just get in.”
Roland can’t help but look at his buddy in a way that is slightly pathetic. Big Fixer man worried about a little burn. Netzach makes no comment, simply looking at him with those same eyes, calm as ever.
“It’s okay.”
He’s not sure why that gets him.
The next burn forces a startled yelp out of him, before the rest of his body follows. Once he’s properly submerged in the water though, it finally hits him.
The taller man breathes out, feeling every muscle he didn’t even know was tense slowly relax. Every bit of heaviness seems to wash away, leaving only that steady calm. It seeps through him as if under the artist’s spell.
“Dude..” he takes the time to settle in, scooting up against the ceramic walls until their legs loosely cross in the water. Another delectably cold can is pushed into his grip before he can even finish the thought. “Remind me to never doubt you again.”
Roland watches as the other man’s lips quirk up just a little. “Sure. Will do.”His own follow suit, the two men smiling at each other in their own little getaway.
The room is filled with occasional banter, along with a slow tune. Guitar strings supported by drums. They don’t need to be anywhere but here.