π³π. ππΈπ»π»πΈπ°πΌ π±πΈππΊπΈπ½ (
retroviridae) wrote in
arklaycounty2022-12-26 07:21 pm
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i want to ruin our friendship / we should be lovers instead
[ Everything felt brighter, a little louder, blended at the edges, but not in a way the seventeen-year-old William Birkin minded. It was just nice. He wasn't even one for drinking—people had had parties at the executive training school, obviously; most of them were a handful of years older than himself and Al were, more than half of their classmates legally able to drink. But wine imbibed at a research conference was decidedly different in tone and dignity than jungle juice consumed on the floor of someone's dorm room in the middle of the Colorado woods. The latter Will had no interest in; the prior, he took part in now.
He'd spent most of the evening playing nice, interacting with people whose names he needed to know. People whom he wanted to know his name. William Birkin, child prodigy, Umbrella's youngest hire. Hours of this, the kind of thing he usually had no interest in, though he was at least able to spend a good portion of the time discussing their work.
Eventually things began to wind down; people started heading back up to their rooms or to the outside hotels they were staying at by way of the parking lot. They, fortunately, had a room on the third floor, neighboring that of Dr. Marcus and a few others. Umbrella had spared no expense. William looked around, finally caught sight of the slightly taller figure of Al Wesker, friend, colleague, temporary roommate for the duration of the trip. He waved a hand to catch his attention, trotted over.
Al looked... nice tonight, even moreso than usual. He couldn't say he'd ever seen him looking anything other than good, save for back when every little thing he did was infuriating, but he looked especially charming and clean-cut when he put more than the usual effort in, as he apparently had this evening. Formalwear suited him, as did the fluorescent-bulb chandelier lighting in the ballroom they were holding this event in. There wasn't much that didn't suit him, William had quickly learned.
The warmth of the usual inconvenient nervous energy blossomed in his chest as they regrouped, but he brushed it off, for the most part. It was easier, he found, in a vaguely intoxicated state. ]
Ready to go back up to the room?
He'd spent most of the evening playing nice, interacting with people whose names he needed to know. People whom he wanted to know his name. William Birkin, child prodigy, Umbrella's youngest hire. Hours of this, the kind of thing he usually had no interest in, though he was at least able to spend a good portion of the time discussing their work.
Eventually things began to wind down; people started heading back up to their rooms or to the outside hotels they were staying at by way of the parking lot. They, fortunately, had a room on the third floor, neighboring that of Dr. Marcus and a few others. Umbrella had spared no expense. William looked around, finally caught sight of the slightly taller figure of Al Wesker, friend, colleague, temporary roommate for the duration of the trip. He waved a hand to catch his attention, trotted over.
Al looked... nice tonight, even moreso than usual. He couldn't say he'd ever seen him looking anything other than good, save for back when every little thing he did was infuriating, but he looked especially charming and clean-cut when he put more than the usual effort in, as he apparently had this evening. Formalwear suited him, as did the fluorescent-bulb chandelier lighting in the ballroom they were holding this event in. There wasn't much that didn't suit him, William had quickly learned.
The warmth of the usual inconvenient nervous energy blossomed in his chest as they regrouped, but he brushed it off, for the most part. It was easier, he found, in a vaguely intoxicated state. ]
Ready to go back up to the room?