Snippet #2707683

By the time he's standing within a feet of Oliver he's already forgotten that Val asked him not to. Memory shot, an effect of too long spent with his head underwater. Drowning out the brain cells that he doesn't use anyways. All at once, the nerves get to him. He's not used to Oliver, not in the way that he's used to Debbie. He almost forgets what he's doing there altogether.

"Jordan?" Oliver prompts, as if they had been holding a conversation - and maybe they had been. Theres something like delight in the mans voice, and Jordan assumes its due to the fact that this is one of a handful of times they've ever talked face to face, without the buffer of the other boys between them. Jordan needs to reign in those stray side effects before they get out of hand, can't be outwardly showing his hands, not with the threat of his toys being taken away.

Jordan shakes from his thoughts before the silence can stretch out into concern. Its dangerous, this line he's standing on. A tightrope over the gaping maw of a canyon. Any moment he could fall, shattering into shards of glass at the bottom. "Oh uh," Jordan stumbles over his tongue, whats he to say anyhow. Theres some weirdo, make him leave. Sounds childish in a way, too much like a fear of nothing at all. But really, what more is there to expect from a neurotic mess.

"Val said to come get you?" He didn't, but Jordan doesn't remember that bit of the speech. It had been too many words strung together, leaking into an incoherent head. "Theres some guy - " Oliver is already standing, but he doesn't look overly concerned yet. Jordan reels in the desperate need to stumble away, out of arms reach. "Anything more specific?" Oliver teases, in good nature, but it makes the fluttering of anxiety spark in Jordan. His stance widens, defensive.

"Tall, Tattoo'd, intense." Jordan shrugs, chewing on his lip. The more he spoke the more interested Oliver looked. "Looked like Val was gonna pick a fight." He doesn't know him personally enough to say for sure, but it seemed that way at least. "Probably should have led with that kiddo," Oliver doesn't quite drop the smile but theres a sharper look to his face now, and Jordan knows that isn't his fault but it still feels that way. He's the one who delivered the news after all.

"By the bar," Jordan mutters but he's already on his way, clapping a hand on Jordans shoulder as he goes. And Jordan for the life of him does not let himself follow, wants nothing to do with whatever the hell is going on out there. But he does linger, even as guests trickle out in a steady stream and his coworkers begin to file their way up the stairs. Back to the penthouse for a rest before the next nights activities can resume. He waits until he knows that he can't anymore.