Miquel lay down on his bed, stretching his arms and legs after a moderately-long midnoon saturday nap and rubbed his eyelids with the side of his fists. He then grabbed his phone and replied to somemessages he'd received before looking at the time and noticing it was only 3 minutes before the time he'd accorded to meet Braxton at Miquel's dorm. His eyes widened, and he rushed to his closet to dress up and get ready.
Braxton was headed towards Miquel's dorm as they had already agreed to meet up. He was wearing a simple, white shirt with some jeans. As he reached his room, Braxton proceeded to open the door which was, surprisingly, unlocked.
Braxton stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Miquel shirtless. Raising an eyebrow, he whistled--to let Miquel know he was in the room and absolutely for no other reason. (Yeah. Totally no other reason.)
Miquel turned around as he heard the whistle (which, by the way, he knew immediately who it came from, as it was iconic), eyes wide and cheeks blushed in embarrasment, although he stupidly tried to hide it by not hiding his body with his hands as he normally would have. "Oh. How'd you get in here, Ivenmeyer?"
His blush crimsoned even more, and he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious but tried to play cool, "Nah, man. I normally don't I just- I'm trying a new dietary regimen and exercise techniques and..." he trailed off, not sure about what to say mext.
"Not at all, bro, why?" Miquel furrowed his eyebrows in an unconscious pouty fashion as he absentmindedly picked up a t-shirt from his drawer and put it on, not knowing it said "You're the Watson to my Sherlock".
Braxton shrugged. "From time to time." He sat down at a couch in Miquel's room. "What do you think of Sherlock and Watson's relationship--platonic or romantic?" He already took a guess at what Miquel was going to say.
Braxton found the accented bit from Miquel endearing. Naturally he said nothing about that. "Pfft. Watson and Mary? Oh, you are serious about that." He clicked his tongue. "That's funny, considering the shirt you're wearing."
Miquel's face puzzled in confusion before he looked down at his shirt and mentally cursed in his native language. "Oh, this? Pfft," he made a dismissive hand gesture, "This is just a gift they gave me," He lied. Honestly, he'd originally bought it to give it to Liam should any occassion of that matter arise.
OOC: Yessss. The shirt'll be 10 times the size of miquel tho unless he bought matching shirts
Returning from class, Emily opened the door to Dorm Twelve, gripping the handle of her messenger bag. She closed the door behind her and sighed. The voices of Miquel and Braxton echoed from his room and Emily recognized them immediately. Now frozen in her spot, she still herself and listened.
"I don't, but you're right: since it is only us," he coughed a little at how that had sounded in his head, but resumed, "since it's only us we will know the other is the one to ask. So who starts? DO you want to start?"
Braxton leaned closer to Miquel seductively. He leaned towards his ear as if to whisper something. However, he only shouted, "Not for your virginal ears to hear!" Braxton then pulled himself back into his seat, laughing.
She began shaking as she continued listening, exaggerated worries filling her mind. What if...? No. But maybe... No. She told herself 'no' so many times but she didn't believe it. She quietly sucked in a breath to avoid revealing her presence outside. Just listen a little bit longer, maybe it's not what you think...
(OOC: lmao was that aria, emily is sad because of you)
"I sure hope I didn't deafen you," said Braxton, the laughter fading away. "Anyway, do you want to keep playing or do you want to go out for lunch? There's this marvelous restaurant a little ways from the Academy."
Miquel gulped as he looked around. When Braxton had mentioned eating out, he'd thought about a modest restaurant. Not this. Not that Miquel minded, for it was beautiful and luxurious, but he didn't know if he could afford this, "Uh, well, it certainly does look very neoclassic and great, and I do not want to sound like a cheapskate, but I'm not sure if I can afford this restaurant." He whispered the last part.
Braxton merely chuckled. "Who said you were paying? It would be quite rude if I, the one taking you out here, was not paying." He then realised his words made it sound like they were on a date. Braxton quickly added, "By taking you out, I mean as friends."
"Of course." He snorted, "Pffft, I know you're flirty but you know I have a girlfriend so I am aware this is not a date." Evevn as he said this, he cleared his throat and felt guilty thinking of Emily.
Miquel blinked rapidly, "My girlfried, you ask? She is very pretty, special, innocent. I don't think you would know her, really…" Miquel shruged nervously, not really wanting to talk about EMily at that moment with Brax.
Miquel, having his fair share of knowledge of fancy food as he was an aspiring chef himself, spoke up, "I'm not sure if I want the Cantonese Plum-honey lacquered duck or a Bistecca Fiorentina with a, a..." he snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name for the fruit in English, after a sudden brain fart from getting distracted by Braxton's jawline, "Framboise sauce?"
Braxton raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Miquel's stammering. "Hmm, they both sound delectable. Personally, I'm going for the marinated mushroom and fennel snapper. If I were you, though, I'd pick the Bistecca alla Fiorentina. By the way, what were you looking at so distractedly?"
Miquel's eyes widened quickly after being caught red-handed before lowering them to their usual size and trying to play it cool, "Oh it's nothing. You just have a dirty spot on on your chin," he lied nonchalantly and quickly brushed his thumb over Braxton's chin before wiping it on his napkin to continue the act, "It's gone now, so no need to worry," he smiled warmly.
"I--" Miquel brushing his thumb on Braxton's chin made Braxton flustered. He regained his cool and hoped that the blush on his face was light enough so that Miquel wouldn't notice. "Let's--Let's, uh, order already."
Miquel agreed quietly and waited for the waitress to arrive. When she did, she smiled courteously at both and asked for their order, "Good afternoon. The gentleman will have a fennel and mushroom marinated snapper and I'll have a Bistecca alla fiorentina with the, uh, the sauce."