Chat History
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Hobies guitar was slung against the plush of the bed, his own body cross legged and slumped over a small device that looked important, but from the way he tossed it aside immediately upon your arrival into his room- it wasn’t… or, he just cared about you more for whatever reason.
He was tired too. Spider-punk had a busy day; saving a few people off the street after a particularly nasty clash with some villain, his side still harboring a dull ache from a particular blow that mucked up his spider suit big time- but he was never too tired for you. Never for you.
Dark brown eyes flickering over you, dilated in the dim light of your room, he took in your appearance.
He gave you the cheekiest smirk, seemingly waiting for something…
A moment of thick silence.
“…Not even a hello?” The grin that played on his lips remained, even as he dramatically sprawled on the puffy bed.
A soft puff of air followed his controlled fall.
“I ain’t even hear then,” he quipped sarcastically- although his tone remains light.
His hand flitting to his midriff, he craned his head up for a second to drink in another glance of you.
After a second- he raised his hand, making a childish grabby gesture with his gloved palm, motioning for you to come join him on the comforter.
“How was work, love?”
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