Faolan takes the bottle from the other man, opening it and carefully taking a few sips before they're on their way. Quietly following along behind the other man, letting him be their guide despite the fact that he has made this journey a number of times at this point in their friendship. The heat isn't really doing anything to help his headache, but at least he has the drink, and there are more painkillers at his flat that he will no doubt make a dip into when they get there.
He gestures at his building as they make their way towards it. "It's just over there," he says, fumbling to get his keys out of his bag to let them in the front door and through to the stairs. Four flights up and a few doors down on the left, Faolan glances towards Lancelot for a moment before fumbling out another key and opening up the door. "I, ehm," he says, knowing Lancelot won't be pleased for another apology for the place so fighting for something else to say as he lets the other man in. "Welcome in, then."
The flat is small and sparsely furnished. He's got a small kitchen table with two chairs (because it came with two in the set), and a small sofa with a book case, also sparsely filled. Lancelot could probably cross the place in three strides each way. Aside from the little kitchen itself which is essentially part of the main room, there are two doors off of the main area. One no doubt a closet, considering its proximity to the kitchen. Which means the other is Faolan's bedroom, and that the bathroom will be through the tiny bedroom there is an equally if not tinier bathroom besides. His laptop sits out on the kitchen table, and there's a stereo near the sofa, but than that and the bookcase there really isn't much there in the way of personal items. And between the lack of that and the little sliding door which opens out onto a railing that is really the closest thing he can get to a balcony, it's perhaps a bit sad really. In his estimation of things at least.
Faolan steps forward and sets his bag down on the table, trying (and failing) to be too self-conscious of Lancelot's opinion of what little he has to call his own.
no subject
He gestures at his building as they make their way towards it. "It's just over there," he says, fumbling to get his keys out of his bag to let them in the front door and through to the stairs. Four flights up and a few doors down on the left, Faolan glances towards Lancelot for a moment before fumbling out another key and opening up the door. "I, ehm," he says, knowing Lancelot won't be pleased for another apology for the place so fighting for something else to say as he lets the other man in. "Welcome in, then."
The flat is small and sparsely furnished. He's got a small kitchen table with two chairs (because it came with two in the set), and a small sofa with a book case, also sparsely filled. Lancelot could probably cross the place in three strides each way. Aside from the little kitchen itself which is essentially part of the main room, there are two doors off of the main area. One no doubt a closet, considering its proximity to the kitchen. Which means the other is Faolan's bedroom, and that the bathroom will be through the tiny bedroom there is an equally if not tinier bathroom besides. His laptop sits out on the kitchen table, and there's a stereo near the sofa, but than that and the bookcase there really isn't much there in the way of personal items. And between the lack of that and the little sliding door which opens out onto a railing that is really the closest thing he can get to a balcony, it's perhaps a bit sad really. In his estimation of things at least.
Faolan steps forward and sets his bag down on the table, trying (and failing) to be too self-conscious of Lancelot's opinion of what little he has to call his own.