The look Krouse gives Fabian is a very obvious, goggle-eyed no, which dissolves into a wincing grimace of brand new, never before experienced confusion as his brain then starts tacking on - not caveats, exactly. Because the answer is no. Noelle didn't even come onto him when she was less frustrated with his entire existence, let alone when she was angry with him.
That's not really the question that tangles Krouse up for a second in his own shit before he wraps his brain around the real thing that's going to slap him upside the head any minute now. The weird thing that gets Krouse for a second is imagining if Noelle had, hypothetically, ever come onto him while she was mad -
It would have been awful. Unbelievably fucking awful. He'd have felt sick about it. But for one half-drunk, supremely teenaged moment, Krouse just - thinks about it a little.
"No," he says, mouth moving right as the implication that really matters side swipes him like a semi and mercifully removes all thoughts involving his own personal life clean out of his skull, "No, she never - hang on - "
Krouse stares at Fabian, his mouth falling open as he blinks, really taking it all in. The hunkered down confusion, the tinge of befuddled confusion, the general air of fuck, dude, and oh, holy shit.
"Gorgug came onto you," Krouse says, not a question, "While he was...huh."
Krouse decides now is a great time for another drink. Out of a respect for someone's privacy, or the concept of privacy in general, he tilts Noelle's picture away from Fabian so she's not looking at him.
"Are you," Krouse says, as certain select images play behind his eyes, "Let me rephrase that. What, ah - exactly did he do? Precisely?"
no subject
The look Krouse gives Fabian is a very obvious, goggle-eyed no, which dissolves into a wincing grimace of brand new, never before experienced confusion as his brain then starts tacking on - not caveats, exactly. Because the answer is no. Noelle didn't even come onto him when she was less frustrated with his entire existence, let alone when she was angry with him.
That's not really the question that tangles Krouse up for a second in his own shit before he wraps his brain around the real thing that's going to slap him upside the head any minute now. The weird thing that gets Krouse for a second is imagining if Noelle had, hypothetically, ever come onto him while she was mad -
It would have been awful. Unbelievably fucking awful. He'd have felt sick about it. But for one half-drunk, supremely teenaged moment, Krouse just - thinks about it a little.
"No," he says, mouth moving right as the implication that really matters side swipes him like a semi and mercifully removes all thoughts involving his own personal life clean out of his skull, "No, she never - hang on - "
Krouse stares at Fabian, his mouth falling open as he blinks, really taking it all in. The hunkered down confusion, the tinge of befuddled confusion, the general air of fuck, dude, and oh, holy shit.
"Gorgug came onto you," Krouse says, not a question, "While he was...huh."
Krouse decides now is a great time for another drink. Out of a respect for someone's privacy, or the concept of privacy in general, he tilts Noelle's picture away from Fabian so she's not looking at him.
"Are you," Krouse says, as certain select images play behind his eyes, "Let me rephrase that. What, ah - exactly did he do? Precisely?"