Log:Room Service

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Room Service
Characters  •   Theodore Marchant  •  Morrison Lester  •
Location  •  Hotel Downtown
Factions  •   Lester Family  •  Marchant Family  •
Date  •  2019-08-06
Summary  •  Breakfast and talking between Morrison and Theodore.

There had indeed been beer, and it had been decent beer, not the shit he used to steal from his dad when they were younger. The beer was mostly gone, and the TV was still going from the night before, though the sound was off, the light from whatever was on the screen casting flickering colored light against the walls and illuminating the room where the blackout curtains were blocking most of what was going on outside. Morrison stirs slowly from where he had passed out, stretching his arms over his head with a groan and then a sigh as he looked around the for the clock on the night stand. 6:45am. Too early.

Theo has always been an early riser, and quiet as a mouse in the wee morning hours as well. All the better to get a little thinking time to oneself. And so he sits in one of the chairs in the spacious room, only in his boxers as he sips away at an open bottle of beer. It might be to early for drinking, but it's a weekend morning and so he has no where else to be. It might be almost odd, Theo sitting there in the dark, staring at Morrison as he drinks to start the day, if it wasn't relatively normal behavior for him.

Morrison is usually an early riser during the week. He has to drag himself out of bed and get to the factory floor at opening and he works there until mid-afternoon when his shift is over. But not now, now it is the weekend and he's left to his own devices. So while the time might be later than he'd usually wake, it's earlier than he'd like to on a Saturday. He knows Theo's up. He usually is. It only takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he spots him sitting in the chair, staring at him. "What're you thinking about?" he asks in a voice still a bit roughened with sleep as he rubs at his face a bit to wake up.

Theo answers the question by not answering immediately, instead just taking a swig from the beer bottle in his hand. His oher hand is beside his head, two fingers on his temple, elbow on the armrest. Then finally, "Room service. I'm going to regret this beer if I don't eat something. The eggs benedict here aren't horrible." His eyes flick away towards the black out curtains which are blocking first light from actually getting inside the room. Even in only his boxers he sits like he's at the office, just lounging enough to show he's comfortable and in control without appearing lax.

Morrison, on the other hand, sprawls. He tucks one arm behind his head and tilts it to look over in Theo's direction, studying him as he sits there with his beer. "Breakfast sounds good," he agrees, running one hand through his hair to push it back a bit. He follows the glance toward the curtains, and reaches over toward the remote to turn off the TV which goes off with an audible click, making the room even more dark save for the sliver of early morning light from between the curtains. He pulls himself up and out of bed, not a stitch of clothing on, and opens the blackout curtains enough to let some light in, making it a bit less dim. He squints a bit, and then asks, "Want me to order?"

Theo does look back eventually, the black out curtains can only hold so much interest for him, especially once Morrison gets up and out of the bed. Then it verges on leering. "Sure." He agrees easily. He reaches over and grabs the room service menu off the table, holding it out for Morrison. "I also rented the room through tomorrow, didn't know how much steam you needed to blow off." Almost perfectly business like as he speaks. Almost. Only someone who knows Theo well enough could pick up that slight hint in his tone that suggests he'd find it enjoyable to spend the whole day couped up in the hotel room.

Morrison reaches out to take the menu from the extended hand and then sits down on the end of the bed to take a look at it, even though it hasn't changed in years. Finally he picks up the phone and dials it and orders for them both -- eggs benedict, coffee for both of them, orange juice, two sides of bacon, scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, white toast with extra butter. Once the ordering is done, he hangs up the phone and smiles amusedly over at Theo, saying, "Your accuracy never ceases to amaze me." It's a lazy sort of observation, though with a hint of humor in it. "That sounds just about right."

Theodore's flat look also says he isn't buying the flattery's authenticity but he'll take it nonetheless. The bottle is tipped back to drain the last of what's inside and then set on the table, now that there's more a more filling breakfast option on the way. "If I didn't have this thing figured out by now, I haven't been paying attention." His gaze lingers on Morrison for a bit more. He stands up and walks over to where he put his belongings, all carefully folded atop his clothes on the dresser. He picks up his pager and glances at it for a moment then tosses it back down on his clothing.

"And we know that you're always paying attention," Morrison says with a little sidelong smile that says he knows very well how he's being watched. Perhaps that's why he hasn't bothered to put any clothing on. His own clothes are scattered around the floor wherever they came off the night before, his duffle tossed onto the floor by the chair with whatever he needs inside of it. He watches as the pager is picked up and then tossed back down. "No interruptions?" he asks. He's more than accustomed to there being interruptions by this point.

"None that need me now." A workaholic he may be, but he can at least tear himself away once in a while. For a day. Here and there. He crosses the room back towards the bed where he takes a seat next to Morrison, leaning back a bit with his arms propping him up. "I can wait to make the call after breakfast." And that's all it will be. A call that involves Theo babbling at the other person for a few minutes, more often than not harshly, and then it's back to relaxation.

"Good," Morrison says, though he's never seemed bothered by interruptions, whether they're needed or not. They come with the territory, and he's listened idly to more than one work call during their times together. But that doesn't mean he won't pretend to be possessive of that time, or perhaps, not truly pretending at all, even if it's good-natured. He turns and leans over to bite Theo's shoulder, catching it with his teeth and then releasing. His own shoulders are marred here and there with a few scars, some older, some newer. There's a long thin burn where a molten metal rod slipped and hit him in the shoulder. There are a few from fights, but a few are from accidents at the factory.

Theodore, on the otherhand, looks like he's lived the life of an academic. PRetty much unblemished except for the few nips given to him by Morrison last night. He leans his head to the side at the bite with a very slight smile. "Careful, I don't think we can finish before food gets here, and I'd rather not be interrupted, even for food." Though he reaches out to run a hand down Morrison's arm, tracing the muscles with a finger.

"Oh, trust me, even breakfast wouldn't stop me if I were actually starting something," Morrison chuckles in that low almost-growl. "But I want coffee first, and bacon." He definitely has the physique of someone whose living is made by manual labor, and whose nights are spent in the ring, or on the street, fighting. "Then, you. I suppose I should put some pants on." Not that he's above giving whoever brings their breakfast a show, but he does at least make an effort to not draw too much attention.

"If you want. I'm sure the bellhops have seen much, much worse." Theodore doesn't seem inclined to put on more than the underwear he is wearing at the moment. His hand runs in a line down the middle of Morrison's back, lingering between his shoulder blades for a moment. "Really, who's going to remember a face with something else to look at." And then Theo smiles. It's an almost vicious smile that lasts just a moment. Perhaps it's a good thing he doesn't smile more.

"Probably," Morrison agrees, though he seems unconcerned when Theo seems likewise unconcerned. Instead he leans forward a bit at the touch, resting his elbows on his knees and stretching just slightly, muscles shifting beneath skin. He glances over his shoulder in time to catch that smile, and it only draws his own wolfish one back to the surface, like a lupine facing off with a shark. "You seem to remember my face well enough, despite being obviously distracted," he chuckles.

"Yes, well, I see you more often with your clothes on. So I have the advantage over whatever poor soul knocks on the door." Theo's hand slides back up Morrison's back until it comes to a rest on his shoulder. "And the advantage of having known you for years." Almost as if the thought is a summons there's a knock on the door. Theo looks over to Morrison with a slightly arched brow, seeing if he's going to go for the pants afterall.

"That's unfortunately true," Morrison can't help but laugh just a little bit at Theo seeing him more often with his clothes on. He reaches up and covers the hand on his shoulder with his own for a moment, just a moment or two, and then the knocking comes at the door and he does pull himself up to his feet and strolls right on over to the door without even pausing to consider picking up his pants. Instead, he just grabs the cash he'd set aside for the tip. He opens the door, and outside a bellhop is standing with a tray on top of a rolling cart. The bellhop flushes red, apparently reconsidering pushing the cart into the room. "I'll take that, thanks," Morrison says, taking the tray and handing the man the tip before giving him another one of those near feral smiles. There's a stammered "Have a nice morning, Sir" before the door is closed, and Morrison returns with breakfast, depositing it on the small table by the chair that Theo had been occupying.

Theo watches the whole exchange passively from his spot at the foot of the bed. After the door closes he gives a small shake of his head. "I do believe you might have caused that poor young man to question his sexuality." And he sounds like he's curious as to how that'd turn out. However, there is food and he gets to his feet and walks over to the chair he previously vacated, already pouring out the coffee into mugs before he takes a seat.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Morrison comments as he peels back the plastic wrap covering the beverages to keep anything from getting into them, and takes the little covers off of the plates where the food is fresh and hot. It might not be the Ritz, but the food isn't bad, and the coffee is actually good. He settles into the other chair and reaches for a piece of bacon, crunching into it with a sigh of contentment. "We'll see if we get the same bellhop when we order again later." The smile that he gives then is particularly devilish before he sprinkles salt and pepper on his eggs.

Theodore takes a fork to his eggs benedict, waiting that second before the yolk starts leaking before he nods and picks up the pepper as well. Over-poached eggs are just not right. He takes a bite of his breakfast watching Morrison for just a moment. "Hmm, guess I'm lucky I already had things figured out by the time I got around to you." He picks up his coffee for a sip, black as it is. "I'd offer to make a wager on whether we get that bellhop again, but I think we both think we will."

Morrison chuckles at that as he reaches out and grabs his glass of orange juice and takes a sip from it, "Oh, you would have figured it out if you hadn't already. But you've never been a man who didn't know exactly what he wanted." He glances toward the door and chuckles. "Yeah, I wouldn't take the other side of that wager. I'm pretty sure he'll be back." He pours some cream into his own coffee, just enough to turn it that caramel color that he likes. No sugar. Nothing that will make it sweet.

Theo lets out a long soft "Hmmm." Perhaps not a complete disagreement, but not a resounding agreement with the sentiment either. "It helps when what you want is relatively simple. I pity the people that feel the need to find meaning in life, chasing their tails. I want to be comfortable." He shrugs. "And get paid to argue with people. I'm going to argue anyway, might as well make money off of it." He sets his coffee down as he watches Morrison, until his eyes flick back to his breakfast. "What about you? Do you know what you want?"

Morrison chuckles at that soft hmm that is neither disagreement, nor agreement. He picks up another piece of bacon and takes a bite from it, holding the rest between two fingers as he listens. When asked if he knows what he wants, Morrison says, "I want to be comfortable, and to get paid to fight people. I'm going to fight anyway, may as well get paid for it." He pops the rest of the bacon in his mouth and reaches for the coffee, taking a sip from his cup.

"Touche." Theo mumbles as his answer is pretty much given back to him with a minor change. He sips at his coffee and peers over to the break in the blackout curtains. "Been a while since I've seen you beat the snot out of someone. Let me know whaen your next fight is, I'll come watch." He sets down the coffee mug and leans back in the chair. "Maybe I'll even bet some money on the fight."

"Next week," Morrison says as he cracks his neck a bit, rotating his shoulders and then letting them fall again. "Down at the ring. My bout's at 9 if you want to watch." He raises a brow at the betting though and says, "Didn't take you for a betting man." Has Theodore ever bet on one of his fights before? Has he even seen Theo bet money on anything before, for that matter?

Theo nods slowly at the information. No doubt storing it away for later, he'll remember, there's no worry about that. He always remembers. He picks up his fork and continues to eat, waiting a moment before answering Morrison. "I bet money all the time. Just not usually gambling. Banking is all about betting money, picking the right investments, chosing who to loan money to and who not to. We just take as much risk out of the equation as we can, but it's still betting."

Morrison digs into his eggs, making his way through about half of them as Theo explains the relative proximity of banking to gambling and smirks. "Lot more projections, calculations, and fancy number stuff to banking than to boxing, I'd figure." Fancy number stuff that he's never had any real interest in. It's not that Morrison is unintelligent, just generally disinterested in academics.

"Where do you think odds come from? Some jack ass is sitting there tallying up your wins and losses, the other guy's wins and losses, how many are betting for you, how many against. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to figure out what you had for breakfast and the last time you had a drink and added that in to their calculations. And in both cases human error can fuck you up royally." It's about as impassioned a speech as one will get out of Theo. Which is to say, he sounds more like a teacher providing a lecture on a topic he has at least a passing interest in.

Morrison waves his hand a bit as though dismissing it all, "Alright, alright. So, I guess the question is, then, are you going to bet for me to win? Or against it?" It's clear, however, that he's teasing just a little bit, as he glances over sidelong and his eyes glint, that smile spreading for a moment before it disappears behind another mouthful of eggs.

"I'll have to see the other guy first." Theo says almost blandly. Almost if you don't know him, though Morrison probably detects the teasing jab in his tone. Finishing off his eggs he finally grabs his portion of the orange juice to wash everything down with. "You never know what sort of monster you might be up against, and while I value our friendship, I also value my money."

Morrison smirks at that and says, "Mhmn," without any further comment. He finishes off most of his breakfast, then, falling silent for a bit, though it's clear he's more amused than anything else. It's a fair statement, after all, even if it is a jab. And he knows Theo well enough to know that the man is a pragmatist, not a sentimentalist. That's probably one of the things he truly likes about him, after all.

"Win or lose I'll buy you a drink after." Theo finishes off the last of his juice and his coffee before standing up. "I'm going to go take a shower." He steps forward and rests a hand on Morrison's shoulder, then idly comments. "It's a large shower." And with that he's heading into the bathroom without saying another word.

"I'll hold you to that," Morrison says as he takes another swig of his coffee, and then he lets out a low chuckle at the comment about the shower. "Is it, now?" Apparently no further invitation is required, if one was even required to begin with. Morrison slips from the chair a few moments after Theo and follows him toward the bathroom, stretching slightly as he goes.