Evan Agueda, also known as Narcii, sat in his shitty apartment, studying his homework and being generally bored. He hears the gunshots outside his home, but they don't bother him much, honestly. He lived on the shitty side of town, and hearing shots being fired was pretty normal. Sure, they were never that close to his place, but that was beside the point. He just supposed that he was trying to make himself feel better about it all.
But then there was a loud bang on his door, causing him to jump slightly and look up from his book. After a moment of chewing on his lip and sucking on one of his piercings there, he stands, deciding to check up on whatever is happening out there. He grabs a knife from the kitchen, and slowly makes his way over to the door, opening it slowly.
To say Narcii is surprised when a man falls into his doorway would be an understatement. Well, the guy didn't look dead, right? At least he knew how to do simple first aid, because it had become apparent that this guy was the one that got the short end of the stick in that shootout. Poor guy. Narcii leans down to carefully pull the other into his arms. Now, Narcii wasn't the strongest guy, but the man in his arms was way too easy to lift. He holds the other, marvelling at the thin frame and the feeling of bones sticking into his arms. This guy needed to eat something.
Narcii decides to being the guy into his home, rather than to a hospital, because he knew these types. Most of these people either couldn't afford to go to the hospital, or they just plain couldn't; they have warrants for their arrest, or something of that nature. And Narcii really didn't want to get on the bad side of one of these guys.
The blond man sets the noiret down on his couch, grabbing his first aid kit and patching up the the guy's arm. Lucky for him, only his arm got grazed, nothing more serious. It should heal pretty easily. He then moves to his desk, folding his long legs and resting them on the table, book in his lap.
Narcii doesn't know how long he reads for, doesn't know how long the other is out for. But he notices as the other wakes with a groan.
Ryley sits up altogether too quickly, and he feels dizzy as instincts kick in. Once again, he crouches defensively, his tail raising and barbing yet again. He takes a moment to assess the situation. The blond, tattooed man sitting across from him did not seem to mean any harm. After all, if he did, Ryley assumes he would not have woken all bandaged up and with the other sitting serenely with a book in his lap. He takes a few deep breaths, lowering his tail as he tilts his head at the other. Carefully, Ryley sits on the edge of the couch, trying to ignore the stains.
"Oh, so you're not dead," says the blond calmly. Of course, he had known that the other was alive, but hey. He wanted to make a good first impression, after all. Narcii stretches a bit, linking his fingers and cracking his knuckles in front of him before he did the same with his neck and back. Ryley laughs, taking this as an attempt to intimidate him.
"Yeah, Lady Luck is a vengeful bitch," he groans at the state of his alive-ness, his light European accent obvious in his tone. The noiret's bright violet eyes carefully trace over Narcii's form appreciatively. He certainly was attractive, Ryley couldn't deny that much. He had possibly even more piercings than the Siren, and a pleasant face. He was pale, but obviously from a Latino background. It was cute, really, how he only wore a wife beater and a jumpsuit that tied around his waist. This was in stark contrast to Ryley, who wore ripped skinny jeans and a cut off band tee shirt from a band nobody even cared about anymore.
He watches as the other stands and stretches again, smirking slightly. "You need, like, a drink or somethin'?" Comes that sweet, accented voice. "A'dunno how all y'all work," the blond says, obviously referring to those not of the human disposition. Ryley chuckles.
"Unless you have sea water, blood, or bourbon, I think I'm good..." He says, stretching a bit as the other walks toward the kitchen to look into his mostly-empty fridge. Ah, such is the life of a college student.
