The young man sauntered into the hotel's bar, thumbs hooked in front belt loops, something yellow tucked under his arm, and a mildly disinterested look on his face. His wavy brown hair is long enough to threaten curls, and a few messy locks have fallen across his forehead to tickle at an eyebrow, where they're pushed away by the man's free hand. Grey eyes, cool and unreadable as ashes, wander the area for... What? A potential mate? A business opportunity, or maybe just a quickie in some deserted hallway? Who knows?

He's dressed simply enough; comfortably worn bluejeans, sturdy-looking boots in a boring shade of brown, a T-shirt bearing the somewhat faded slogan of "Wear short sleeves! Support your right to bare arms!". Normal wear for anyone between 16 and about 67, though Our Hero happens to be in his early twenties. He takes a few more steps into the dimly-lit room, cocking his head to the left as he catches sight of someone or something interesting. Shrugging a bit, he completes his stroll to the bar, slipping up to the counter between an empty stool and one occupied by a guy sporting bright green hair.

The yellow object in his hand is set on the bar, being revealed as a hat. Edging onto the stool, he nods at the bartender, flicking the occasional glance at the man to his left.

The verdant-tressed youth is covertly eyeing the taller man, one slender hand curled almost protectively around the stem of a wineglass containing wine the colour of black cherries. One emerald brow raises as he catches a request for one of the most expensive liqueurs on the list from his inadvertant companion, since he certainly didn't -look- that well-off...

Tracking the bartender's movement allows him to catch one of the kid's' looks, and a curiously sardonic expression finds its way onto his pleasant face. "Can I help you?"

The other man smirked at him, deliberately ran a scrutinizing look over the guy, then shrugged. "Nah... Y'jus' r'minded me'a summin' ah kn'w..."

"Oh? Who, if I may be so invasive?" His head tips to the right, grey eyes and a small, grateful smile flicking the 'keep's way as a glass of pale gold liquid is slid across the bar.

"N'body 'mportant..." Voice ever-so-casual, calculatingly lazy. "Jus' m'boyfriend."

Hard-pressed to contain his surprise, the man with the hat lifts his glass and sips delicately at the drink. "Really... And he doesn't mind that you talk about him that way?"

"'E nev'r minds. 'E's a grouch, too." Smirk.

"Huh... Sounds kind of like mine." Another tiny taste of the alcohol, watching the kid beside him over the rim of the pilsner.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, except mine's a smartass." His turn to smirk.

"'At's wh't mine's alw'ys c'mplanin' 'bout, 'bout me. 'An 'e snores, too." A shrug. "Mebbe we sh'ld in'erduce 'em."

"Snores?" Oops... He looks away, down to the other end of the bar, where the bartender is fiddling with the television. When he glances back to his companion, he speaks calmly. "Maybe... And then we could all double-date!" There's a mildly sarcastic twist to the words, the glass settling back onto the counter.

"Do'ble date? Don' t'ink so..." His turn to drink. "Y'-look- like 'im... Y'gonna -act- like 'im, too?"

"I don't know... Wanna find out?"

"Mebbe." He sounds rather ambivilent about the whole affair.

"Maybe... Well, that's a start." Snickering softly, he tastes his drink once more. "Well... You going to act like mine?"

Dark brows arch above odd yellow eyes, challenging the darker-complexioned man. "An' if'a do?"

"Lucky for you I like smartasses." Leaning forward, he leers somewhat ridiculously at the other young man.

"Hm... Well, in'at case... Ah guess so." A shrug, and a soft sigh, as if it were an incredible sacrifice. The leer gets a rather toothy grin in return, a bit of a blush rising to his pale, pale face.

"You guess you'll act like him- Oh, never mind." Waving a hand, he boldly leans over, whispering. "The mark just showed... Twenty minutes at the outside." And then he's scooping up the hat and leaving, only the flicker of the tip of his tongue along the shell of Neets' ear showing an interest in anything but business.

"Yup." He allows his façade to slip, then, giving a short, quiet giggle as his ear gets licked.

"...And then, of course, he holds up the duck, grinning like an idiot... Ah!" Chuckling, all of the momentum and air seems to go out of him, leaving Beej slumping against the wall beside their door, grinning himself.

Neets just shook his head over the story and pointed imperiously at the door, unwilling to move from his spot against the trader's side.