ROALIS 50, 2719 ꧁꧂ IN THE NIGHT
The words might've been muffled, but he could hear them, though his eyes were closed and his body remained still. He didn't need to show any indication that'd he'd heard the words, he would've heard them even if the voice had originated from within the walls, or outside the apartment, or another kingdom entirely. Lars held his breath, immersed in the now-cooling water of his bath.
"Don't ignore me," the voice tried again, "we can't stay in here forever."
Sure I can, he thought defiantly, although he remained beneath the surface of the water for only a few moments longer. His companion was splashed as he quickly forced himself upright, hair plastered to his face like an ill-fitting hat, and the blonde that'd been sitting with his back to the tub let out a half-shout, head turning to glare at the white-haired passive. He offered nothing but emptiness in return.
"Get my clothes." The other man didn't bother repressing an agitated noise, pushing himself off of the floor and grabbing Lars' clothes from the other side of the room, which admittedly was only about two feet away, while Lars himself reached for the old, worn, but clean-enough towel that rested on the floor beside the tub. The tub itself was the same; it was old, rickety, it leaked if not repaired before every use. Bringing the towel to his face, he couldn't help his own exhausted groan, breathing irritations into the fabric.
"It's already getting dark outside, Lars," it was meant as a gentle warning, but he couldn't help the growing annoyance, and buried his face further into the towel.
"Mhm. I'm moving."
His reflection didn't have to say anything for both of them to know that that was not, in fact, true, and so he said nothing.
It didn't take long for Lars to leave the apartment, dressing himself quickly and muttering half-hearted goodbyes to the chattering humans on his way out. It was an odd notion to put clothes on just for a little walk, only to most likely remove them once he arrived at his destination - but it was the life he'd made for himself. Might've been strange at the start, uncomfortable, even, but he was done spending his life in a kitchen. He didn't intend on working for Scarlett his entire life, not in the way he did now at least, but it was the current solution; a means to an end. He could justify doing anything, so long as it got him what he wanted - and right now, he wanted coin.
He lowered his head as he approached the ship, walking past familiar bodies that knew by now to ignore him in favor of potential customers.
It wasn't until much, much later that Lars found himself alone again, making his way through to the rest of the establishment that he assumed had been built later on, tucked away in the back and accessed by stairs. Half-asleep he stumbled in his ascension, offering a quiet apology to the woman that had been descending when his body chose to do so. He knew her name, but didn't have the energy to recall it, and she didn't seem to care enough to hold him there.
The passive stood there in the dark stairway for a few moments, listening to the woman's shoes tapping against the floor as she got further and further away. A hand fell upon his shoulder, pulling his attention to his side, where his companion now stood.
"Nice to see you again," Lars greeted quietly, not bothering to suppress his bitter tone.
"Yeah, yeah - come on, lets get up to the room and go to sleep. I'm tired."
"Oh, you're tired?" his words fell on deaf ears, however, but the blonde at his side did assist him in making it to the room, tucked away with the rest of the staff's personal quarters. It wasn't his, of course, but it was open for the night and he was far too tired to walk home safely. He'd surely end up falling asleep as he stood.
So when his companion opened the door and allowed him inside, Lars moved quickly to the bed, falling upon the sheets without care for covering himself with them. He was clothed, again, and he knew he'd get cold during the night but fuck if he was awake enough to care.
"Night, Lars," he heard from somewhere, and mumbled, "night, Lars," against the pillow in return. The passive took a deep breath, glancing about the dark, undecorated room one last time before succumbing to sleep.