Roman watched with momentary interest at the game before him. He didn't really understood American football. There were a couple of times he'd seen it in university, like during the Superbowl, but he hadn't paid much attention to it then, and now wasn't very much different. Nick wasn't that into sports, so it did strike him as odd, but mostly because he expected the guy to be with Brooke most of the night. It wasn't like they were a couple conjoined at the hips or anything. Knowing how Brooke could be, especially when she was drinking, and from the looks of it she was getting a head start, it would make sense to want some distance. The two of them did seem to be getting along rather well actually. It was a good thing, and he tried reminding himself of it, but it was still quite an odd thing to say. Roman watched the tv screen with a blase attitude as he spoke. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I pissed Brooke off and wasn't in the mood to socialize anymore. I was kind of taking a while anyway, so." And without finishing, he just shrugged. He'd almost forgotten about smoking earlier and was kind of wishing that he had gone. "I was fucking exhausted. Still am. We'll just smoke later or whatever."
He looked over to Nick and smirked, giving him a slight punch. "You look fit," he said, referring to Nick's attire. It wasn't the dressiest ensemble--most of the people in attendance were dressed rather casually. All except for Cara, but that didn't need explanation or surprise--but Killens still thought he looked nice. Roman himself wasn't wearing anything special, partially because he didn't own anything formal enough, and even more because he didn't care enough to. At first he was nervous that the dinner was going to be very formal, but he was glad when he saw that it wasn't. He was just wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and trainers; nothing extravagant at all. "Now what exactly do you do?" Roman said, meaning Thanksgiving dinner. When he realized he was being kind of general, he gestured around the area to clarify. "Do you just sit and eat, sing songs? I'm just not trying to fuck up and have Cara running her mouth about how I'm ruining this." While that wasn't entirely a lie, it wasn't the complete truth. He didn't want to embarrass himself and would feel a lot better if he at least knew how things went. So far it had been pretty casual, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. "And what's this all for? Like what are you celebrating?" He stretched his legs out and yawned loudly. A wave of heat hit him and he rubbed his face in frustration. "Fucking Christ it's hot in here," he whined. He was probably making a big deal of nothing, but to him, the smallest things could be the greatest annoyances. "Are you and Brooke still going to the cinema?"
He looked over to Nick and smirked, giving him a slight punch. "You look fit," he said, referring to Nick's attire. It wasn't the dressiest ensemble--most of the people in attendance were dressed rather casually. All except for Cara, but that didn't need explanation or surprise--but Killens still thought he looked nice. Roman himself wasn't wearing anything special, partially because he didn't own anything formal enough, and even more because he didn't care enough to. At first he was nervous that the dinner was going to be very formal, but he was glad when he saw that it wasn't. He was just wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and trainers; nothing extravagant at all. "Now what exactly do you do?" Roman said, meaning Thanksgiving dinner. When he realized he was being kind of general, he gestured around the area to clarify. "Do you just sit and eat, sing songs? I'm just not trying to fuck up and have Cara running her mouth about how I'm ruining this." While that wasn't entirely a lie, it wasn't the complete truth. He didn't want to embarrass himself and would feel a lot better if he at least knew how things went. So far it had been pretty casual, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. "And what's this all for? Like what are you celebrating?" He stretched his legs out and yawned loudly. A wave of heat hit him and he rubbed his face in frustration. "Fucking Christ it's hot in here," he whined. He was probably making a big deal of nothing, but to him, the smallest things could be the greatest annoyances. "Are you and Brooke still going to the cinema?"