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Spicy Figure Skating AU: with extra spice
To be fair, he wants to go home. His head is spinning a little and he is having an entire discussion with Childe (of all people) about how it is better to wear blue or black instead of grey or white when skating. And there was also the entire matter with how comfortable the suit was and if it was fitting for the music piece they were skating to.
“Hold on…” Scaramouche moves to finish his beer and leans forward, placing both of his hands on Childe’s leg so he can properly flatten the fabric of his pants. “…for once, your pants aren’t even ironed properly…” Not that it matters, since Childe isn’t even wearing his skating attire, but at this point Scaramouche is just a teeny tiny bit drunk and he has lost a little bit of his foul mood and a little bit more of his usual temper.
So he’s just patting Childe’s leg a couple of times before he sits back again to look at him.
“Your hair isn’t ironed either.” Is he aware of the stupid things he’s saying? Not entirely. But eventually he does remember that he has made an earlier conclusion that he wanted to go home. Or, well, to his dorm room. There is a lot of sleep he needs and he also vaguely remembers that he’s going to have a bit of a hangover the next day.
“Yeah, I’m going to head back…” Scaramouche moves to stand and it takes at least a minute until he has found his balance. And normally he would just go. Normally. Now he just opens his mouth again.
“…Come with me, our dorms are close to one another anyways.”
“Hold on…” Scaramouche moves to finish his beer and leans forward, placing both of his hands on Childe’s leg so he can properly flatten the fabric of his pants. “…for once, your pants aren’t even ironed properly…” Not that it matters, since Childe isn’t even wearing his skating attire, but at this point Scaramouche is just a teeny tiny bit drunk and he has lost a little bit of his foul mood and a little bit more of his usual temper.
So he’s just patting Childe’s leg a couple of times before he sits back again to look at him.
“Your hair isn’t ironed either.” Is he aware of the stupid things he’s saying? Not entirely. But eventually he does remember that he has made an earlier conclusion that he wanted to go home. Or, well, to his dorm room. There is a lot of sleep he needs and he also vaguely remembers that he’s going to have a bit of a hangover the next day.
“Yeah, I’m going to head back…” Scaramouche moves to stand and it takes at least a minute until he has found his balance. And normally he would just go. Normally. Now he just opens his mouth again.
“…Come with me, our dorms are close to one another anyways.”