Roman was mostly oblivious to what was going on between Brooke and Nick. While he didn't know that Nick had slept with Cara, he did pick up on how something just seemed off between the two. It wasn't until now when Nick sounded somewhat defensive (and then again somewhat not) over what Roman had said that he began to see it. It didn't seem like they were arguing as much, or maybe it was something else? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he didn't care too much since Nick and Brooke had always had their problems. When he could, Roman tried to stay out of it, but sometimes it was hard because he did care about both of them. He only scoffed and rolled his eyes about Cara. He didn't cause trouble; it wasn't his problem that the girl was a raging bitch and he wasn't going to let her just belittle him. Right off the back, he didn't really like her, but it wasn't enough to where he would go out of his way to start conflict. He'd just stick to keeping a distance, as he usually did in an attempt to not cause confrontation. After a while, though, he got quite fed up with her, and she was one of the few people who could really bother the hell out of him; this in itself was aggravating. He couldn't give a damn about their Thanksgiving dinner, especially when Cara was hosting it and even more so when he knew he wasn't invited. He'd have to figure out what to do around that time since he didn't know who all she was inviting--if some of her equally pretentious friends were coming as well. But why is she even having it here? he wondered. Roman shook his head as he finished his breakfast; he didn't care enough to wonder any further.
The texts from Hannah were just an array of swears and letting him know he 'left his fucking jacket' and how he needed to come get it unless he wanted it to be 'in the trash where he belonged.' Normally he'd have ignored her. He would get his jacket later, as he had many, and he wasn't about to make the twenty minute trek back to her place just to get yelled out, and possibly hit, all over. Would she even still be there? Still, though, because he was in a spiteful mood now that the playfulness he was in had vanished, he decided to send a message back.
To: Hannah
tell your fam I said cheers, alright?
After he'd washed his plate and gone back to his room, his phone vibrated and Hannah's name appeared on the screen. He smirked at the 'fuck you' her message read before tossing his phone on the bed and going to take a shower. He felt gross because he'd sweat in his sleep, but also because he still had cinnamon milk residue on him. The shower was cold, as it had a tendency to be, not because the hot water didn't work (which was sometimes the case), but by his own accord. He didn't particularly care for very hot showers, although there were occasions where he preferred them, like if he was really sore after a fight. Sometimes it felt as though the heat were burning the tenderness out of his muscles. More of than not, and like now, his showers were cool to lukewarm. He always found himself to be too heat. While he'd remained in the Northeast of America since coming and didn't find the temperature to be too drastically different from London, it was still too warm for his liking. Even in the summer where it could be quite moderate in most people's opinions, Roman was usually too hot. If it ever got to be too bad, he would just think of the time he went to Florida when he was fifteen and how he was convinced that he was going to die from a heat stroke.
Refreshed, clean, and with a new pair of clothes after about ten minutes, he was ready to head out. When Roman grabbed his phone again with the intention of texting Nick to let him know that he was coming, he saw Nick's earlier text about the movie, to which Killens had never given him an answer. If he wasn't mistaken, the couple usually did their own thing on Thanksgiving, so it struck him as a little odd that he was being asked to go. His mind went straight to Brooklyn then. How she, for whatever bloody reason, thought it necessary enough to wake him up just so he could be around Nick. He didn't suppose she'd really make Nick invite him to the movies, as he imagined she'd want some private time with her boyfriend. But even for Nick, it seemed kind of odd. It could have been because they just seemed worried about him, what with having been out of the apartment for a few days without prior word. Instead of trying to play detective, he decided he'd just ask her. He could just as easily talk to Nick as well, but Brooke was more upfront, close by, and she'd retreated so quietly to her room that it was somewhat concerning. While the two of them had a playful relationship and rarely ever vocalized their worry for the other, it didn't prevent it from happening. He was sure she was okay, but still. Just to make sure. So after he grabbed the last beer from the fridge, he knocked on her bedroom door.
The texts from Hannah were just an array of swears and letting him know he 'left his fucking jacket' and how he needed to come get it unless he wanted it to be 'in the trash where he belonged.' Normally he'd have ignored her. He would get his jacket later, as he had many, and he wasn't about to make the twenty minute trek back to her place just to get yelled out, and possibly hit, all over. Would she even still be there? Still, though, because he was in a spiteful mood now that the playfulness he was in had vanished, he decided to send a message back.
To: Hannah
tell your fam I said cheers, alright?
After he'd washed his plate and gone back to his room, his phone vibrated and Hannah's name appeared on the screen. He smirked at the 'fuck you' her message read before tossing his phone on the bed and going to take a shower. He felt gross because he'd sweat in his sleep, but also because he still had cinnamon milk residue on him. The shower was cold, as it had a tendency to be, not because the hot water didn't work (which was sometimes the case), but by his own accord. He didn't particularly care for very hot showers, although there were occasions where he preferred them, like if he was really sore after a fight. Sometimes it felt as though the heat were burning the tenderness out of his muscles. More of than not, and like now, his showers were cool to lukewarm. He always found himself to be too heat. While he'd remained in the Northeast of America since coming and didn't find the temperature to be too drastically different from London, it was still too warm for his liking. Even in the summer where it could be quite moderate in most people's opinions, Roman was usually too hot. If it ever got to be too bad, he would just think of the time he went to Florida when he was fifteen and how he was convinced that he was going to die from a heat stroke.
Refreshed, clean, and with a new pair of clothes after about ten minutes, he was ready to head out. When Roman grabbed his phone again with the intention of texting Nick to let him know that he was coming, he saw Nick's earlier text about the movie, to which Killens had never given him an answer. If he wasn't mistaken, the couple usually did their own thing on Thanksgiving, so it struck him as a little odd that he was being asked to go. His mind went straight to Brooklyn then. How she, for whatever bloody reason, thought it necessary enough to wake him up just so he could be around Nick. He didn't suppose she'd really make Nick invite him to the movies, as he imagined she'd want some private time with her boyfriend. But even for Nick, it seemed kind of odd. It could have been because they just seemed worried about him, what with having been out of the apartment for a few days without prior word. Instead of trying to play detective, he decided he'd just ask her. He could just as easily talk to Nick as well, but Brooke was more upfront, close by, and she'd retreated so quietly to her room that it was somewhat concerning. While the two of them had a playful relationship and rarely ever vocalized their worry for the other, it didn't prevent it from happening. He was sure she was okay, but still. Just to make sure. So after he grabbed the last beer from the fridge, he knocked on her bedroom door.