[ He keeps staring at the other man, getting a longer, clearer look at Rumlow than he had before, too preoccupied with his own misery. If he had all of his memories intact, if he even knew which were real and which weren't, he'd be reacting to this with far more calculation than he is in this moment. Right now he's simply too raw and vulnerable, and those old con artist instincts have been buried under the fairy tales and fantasies plaguing him.
Right now, he's Jefferson of Storybrooke. Or Wayward Pines. He can hardly tell the two apart. All he knows is that he's drunk and lonely and longing for any sort of connection to distract himself from that. And this man's been kind to him. He has a kind face, kind eyes.
'A good look.' He laughs again, his smile getting brighter. The last person to comment on his appearance only did it to insult him, as if it'd be ludicrous for anyone to find him attractive. He didn't buy into any of those petty insults-- they were irritating, but they didn't wound him or anything-- but it's nice to hear a compliment all the same. ]
Thank you...
[ His gaze flickers between Rumlow's eyes, then his lips-- and the stubble surrounding them-- and without thinking, Jefferson plants a quick, impulsive, drunken kiss on him. There's hardly any finesse to it, him being in the state that he's in, and he pulls back pretty quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. ]
Sorry-- I'm sorry. That was-- [ Inappropriate? Embarrassing? It likely depends on Rumlow's own reaction. ]
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Right now, he's Jefferson of Storybrooke. Or Wayward Pines. He can hardly tell the two apart. All he knows is that he's drunk and lonely and longing for any sort of connection to distract himself from that. And this man's been kind to him. He has a kind face, kind eyes.
'A good look.' He laughs again, his smile getting brighter. The last person to comment on his appearance only did it to insult him, as if it'd be ludicrous for anyone to find him attractive. He didn't buy into any of those petty insults-- they were irritating, but they didn't wound him or anything-- but it's nice to hear a compliment all the same. ]
Thank you...
[ His gaze flickers between Rumlow's eyes, then his lips-- and the stubble surrounding them-- and without thinking, Jefferson plants a quick, impulsive, drunken kiss on him. There's hardly any finesse to it, him being in the state that he's in, and he pulls back pretty quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. ]
Sorry-- I'm sorry. That was-- [ Inappropriate? Embarrassing? It likely depends on Rumlow's own reaction. ]