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Summary
Vessel's finally made the move to London, all on his own with a shoddy little flower shop. He doesn't expect his tattoo artist neighbour to be an old lover who doesn't recognise him anymore, but luckily for him, there's a cute musician and a hot bartender to help him work through everything.
Also the walls are very thin, and Vessel sometimes gets pent up.
“Because I like you.”
“You don’t.”
Three sighed and slid a hand on the bar, close to Vessel’s but never quite touching. “I think… you’re not being fair to yourself. You’re sloshed, for one—and that’s my fault, mind, but I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me who I like and who I don’t. So you be good and listen to me when I say I do like you.”
Vessel still didn’t believe him. “But you won’t sleep with me.”
“You’re drunk.” He stated, as though self-evident.