[ Roman's nose wrinkles into a half smirk, half-smile at Trixie's retort as he fills the other's glass and hands it to her, grateful for their usual back and forth. It's easier than focusing on the gnawing pit in his stomach about Kendall, although that's bound to come up, too.
Roman sits next to her, easy, languid, and takes a sip of his own whiskey. ]
That's what I did back home until recently. Movies. Greenlighting, financing, that sort of thing. I was pretty fucking good at it, too.
[ Our would be, if not for fucking Frank. He makes a face, scooting to tuck his feet up underneath him and lean heavily on Trixie. He's about one minute away from just putting his head on her lap. ]
[ Roman shrugs, though the moment he hunches his shoulders tightly he uses it as an excuse to slide right down so his head is haphazardly on Trixie's lap like a wet noodle.
Alright, fine, maybe he is acknowledging that he's miserable that Kendall's gone, fucking sue him. He may not want to fully talk about it right now but Trixie's here and he actually kind of trusts the girl. ]
Oh, you know. Vacations to Italy. Cabins in the Swiss Alps for skiing in may. Parties and drugs and sex in between 6am conference calls and 24 hour war rooms. Dick slapping and toe tapping. I'm a big fan of showing up somewhere for 40 minutes, making fun of people and then leaving to the next club. It's better if you do it at galas and charity events you're forced to go to, though--me and my girlfriend used to do it all the time. Just sit in the back to watch how embarrassing it can get.
[ A beat. ] You want to see the epitome of cringe?
[Trixie oh-so-casually puts her hand in his hair, stroking it back as he speaks. He just needs a shoulder to cry on -- or someone to listen to him talk nonsense, sometimes it's all the same.]
[ Roman's lips twitch into a smile, practically melting at the hand in his hair. He can't remember the last time he'd been touched like this--soft. Wordlessly caring.
It's nice. Trixie's nice. Roman feels like there should be something else, some weird thing hovering at her periphery. A catch. No way she's just nice, Roman's painfully aware of the fact that no one is ever 'just' something, but it's fun to pretend. He thinks he trusts Trixie as much as he possibly can, and that's a realization he's not sure he has time to process at the moment. He's got his brother to embarrass, after all. ]
There was a birthday celebration for my dad--it was a whole fucking thing. My brother decided to, uh... do a sort of song?
[ He'll pivot so he's looking up and at Trixie, boneless even as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his actual cellphone instead of his network device, unlocking it and searching for the file as he talks. ]
Kendall thinks he's about five times cooler than he actually is. He's a fucking idiot.
[She thinks nothing of running her fingers through his hair. Her business has always been in offering comfort to men, physical or otherwise. Sometimes people just need someone to listen to their tales of woe.]
He sang?
[Twenty people is a party, so that's what she's imagining. Anything else would be the population of a city.]
Kind of. More like. Grunting rhythmically to terrible rhymes. Tabs took this, but sent it to me before the whole death thing--here.
[ He's already grinning as he plays it and holds the phone up so Trixie can see it. It doesn't matter that she might not get it--what matters is that he misses his brother and is remembering him by ensuring someone else knows how goddamn embarrassing he is. ]
Oh, that's really, really awful. But having seen some awful attempts at 'entertainment', she can see the sincerity - the desire to win one's father over - behind the performance.
More importantly, she can tell that Roman's needed this.]
Yeah. Tons. He's like a perpetual embarrassment machine. Churning out cringe every other week. [ Roman's still grinning, a giggle trailing off from his lips. He's splayed on Trixie like he's always belonged here, though after a few moments of searching on his phone his smile fades. ]
I talked to you're, uh... guy. By the way. Swearingtree.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[She follows him further into the cabin and sits, nice and comfortable-like, on his sofa.]
You ever been to the theater? I can't tell if you'd find it fucking boring or not.
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Roman sits next to her, easy, languid, and takes a sip of his own whiskey. ]
That's what I did back home until recently. Movies. Greenlighting, financing, that sort of thing. I was pretty fucking good at it, too.
[ Our would be, if not for fucking Frank. He makes a face, scooting to tuck his feet up underneath him and lean heavily on Trixie. He's about one minute away from just putting his head on her lap. ]
Unless you mean the whole 'play' thing.
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Meant the actual entertainment itself. What do rich folk do for fun, aside from getting high or drunk?
[It's difficult to imagine.]
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Alright, fine, maybe he is acknowledging that he's miserable that Kendall's gone, fucking sue him. He may not want to fully talk about it right now but Trixie's here and he actually kind of trusts the girl. ]
Oh, you know. Vacations to Italy. Cabins in the Swiss Alps for skiing in may. Parties and drugs and sex in between 6am conference calls and 24 hour war rooms. Dick slapping and toe tapping. I'm a big fan of showing up somewhere for 40 minutes, making fun of people and then leaving to the next club. It's better if you do it at galas and charity events you're forced to go to, though--me and my girlfriend used to do it all the time. Just sit in the back to watch how embarrassing it can get.
[ A beat. ] You want to see the epitome of cringe?
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Yeah. Show me this fucking cringe.
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It's nice. Trixie's nice. Roman feels like there should be something else, some weird thing hovering at her periphery. A catch. No way she's just nice, Roman's painfully aware of the fact that no one is ever 'just' something, but it's fun to pretend. He thinks he trusts Trixie as much as he possibly can, and that's a realization he's not sure he has time to process at the moment. He's got his brother to embarrass, after all. ]
There was a birthday celebration for my dad--it was a whole fucking thing. My brother decided to, uh... do a sort of song?
[ He'll pivot so he's looking up and at Trixie, boneless even as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his actual cellphone instead of his network device, unlocking it and searching for the file as he talks. ]
Kendall thinks he's about five times cooler than he actually is. He's a fucking idiot.
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He sang?
[Twenty people is a party, so that's what she's imagining. Anything else would be the population of a city.]
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[ He's already grinning as he plays it and holds the phone up so Trixie can see it. It doesn't matter that she might not get it--what matters is that he misses his brother and is remembering him by ensuring someone else knows how goddamn embarrassing he is. ]
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Oh, that's really, really awful. But having seen some awful attempts at 'entertainment', she can see the sincerity - the desire to win one's father over - behind the performance.
More importantly, she can tell that Roman's needed this.]
That's really fucking bad. Got anything else?
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I talked to you're, uh... guy. By the way. Swearingtree.
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Anyways, show me more. Wish I had a phone like this myself back when I was alive, the things I coulda saved for fucking posterity.