[It's as though Petre was expecting to find the room empty; John calls him out with a question and he looks up like he just realized the room's supposed to have someone else in it. His eyes are a little dazed, lines deeper than usual, denouncing a severe and deliberate lack of proper sleep. His lips are pursed when he sees the other boy, not quite contempt, just something like 'oh. You.' that never quite makes it into words.
Petre doesn't answer, he just walks on over to his bed and drops the key and takes out whatever he's been keeping in his pocket. Just one condom, a phone, loose cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. They took his prized golden one.]
Am I done yet? [He motions his head with a slight mock-tone, words paced and eloquent. I don't know, John. What am I supposed to be done with?
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Petre doesn't answer, he just walks on over to his bed and drops the key and takes out whatever he's been keeping in his pocket. Just one condom, a phone, loose cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. They took his prized golden one.]
Am I done yet? [He motions his head with a slight mock-tone, words paced and eloquent. I don't know, John. What am I supposed to be done with?