en route in the night
Oh. He had not.
The pale-haired passive raised his eyebrows, glancing over and up to Gideon's face. Just as pretty out here, he thought. He wondered if they were at the docks very often - surely they must be, seeing as they worked there. He liked to watch the dockworkers, sometimes, even if he didn't pay much attention, but Gideon was probably a fair bit more attractive than the rest of them. In Lars' opinion, of course, but he couldn't imagine anyone thinking otherwise. Not that... thinking had ever really been his strong suit, as evidenced by the way he'd let his name drop from his lips as soon as he'd had a few drinks and was suitably distracted. It didn't really matter though, did it? Gideon wasn't from Brunnhold, at least not as far as Lars knew.
"He's..." a man? Two? A collection? He didn't really know himself. It all felt so much more complicated, when he was drunk. When he was sober, he could just tell himself not to think about it too hard.
"Ah, too ma - too many voices," he said then, his free hand coming up to tap at the side of his head, near his temple. Lars slipped the hand into his pocket then, to keep it warm, and moved to walk a little closer to Gideon. They were smart - wore a sweater, as was proper in this sort of weather. Lars had left his shirt back near Sharkswell, and didn't feel very inclined to go and get it now. The jacket he'd taken off of Yulis was better than nothing, and it would at least make a good addition to the clothes he had acquired since arriving in the harbor. Hardly any of them had been bought, but did that matter, really? Maybe if Gideon wasn't so pretty and strange, he would have gotten a nice sweater tonight too.
That wasn't what they had asked him, though. "Lars is me," confessed the shorter, "I'm Lars. I... I think. Yes. I'm Lars. Tha's um... 's hard to keep things straight when 'm drunk. An' when I'm not drunk too."
He didn't typically admit that it was hard, though. Didn't typically admit anything of the sort, actually. He didn't know why his intoxicated self felt it appropriate to give that information to a near stranger. Lars had only tried to explain it all once, and it had went about as well as expected - he wasn't really wanting to have the workings of his mind picked apart and misunderstood again, especially not when he didn't even understand it himself.
"Have a hearth, if - if you're cold," said Lars, still trying to keep himself from shivering, but he wasn't succeeding all that well. "Apartment's right there." He nodded towards the buildings they were walking towards - not too far, at least. Hot House Glass looked like a fuckin' ray of warm, bright sunshine right now, compared to the chilly outside air.