Travis turns the television off with some effort, and darkness encompasses the room. Only a dim flare of blue light filters in from the parking lot to set a glow to everything in the room before John turns the phosphorescent overhead lights on. Travis winces, shutting his eyes.

“Sorry,” John says.

“That’s all right.”

“Where’s Nick?”

“He never came in.”

John raises his eyebrows, looking surprised. “I thought he didn’t really like what’s-her-face?” He sits back down on the couch and pulls his leather loafers out from underneath it, putting them on without socks.

“So. You can have sex with people you don’t like.” Travis grabs a pair of black engineer’s boots next to the armchair and pulls them on.

John looks at his friend, shaking his head like a kindergarten teacher scolding a child, “You’re not supposed to.”

“Tell me about it,” Travis complains, throwing his arms limply in the air. “I’ve pissed off more people that way.”

John looks thoughtful for a moment, rolling his bottom lip outward, as he pulls the heel of his shoe up over his foot with a pronounced effort. “I’m pissed off.”

“You’re pissed at the world, not me, and besides: I don’t like you and wouldn’t have sex with you. There’s a subtle difference there.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy, Unthreaded