"Fuuuuck…"
It was times like this that Badou wished he had the skills to fix the air-con. Creasing a newspaper into a makeshift fan, he groaned, melting into the lounge a bit more. It was the kind of weather that had your skin sticking to the seats, marking your thighs with heat rash and making it painful to walk. Badou hated summer with a passion. It was probably one of the only things he was passionate enough about to not get off the lounge for the entire day. Not even to get a smoke. It was too painful. Not worth it. Well, maybe just this once…
Sucking, vacuuming noises as the lounge released his nearly naked form, complete with one long groan that would have done Mihai and his poor aching limbs proud. Patting around half-blind for one of fifty half-empty packets of smokes hiding around the old brown lounge, his hand hit sweaty skin, and he recoiled sharply.
"Do you have to sit so close? Fuck, hot enough as it is!"
It was times like this that Haine wished that he wasn't between homes. The last shootout had left him and his apartment full of holes. Badou's abode didn't look much safer. Holes in the walls, stacks of yellowing paper on every available space, and an ominous looking dark patch on the wooden floor that could have been blood, could have been water. Whatever it was, the floor looked very fragile, and Haine wasn't in the mood for a broken leg. He was too busy dehydrating from the sweat pouring from his pores. He had never been more uncomfortable in his life.
The redhead lit up, inhaling deeply. Maybe if he got on a nicotine high, the sudden heat wave would go away. Now how many would it take him to get a high… far more than the twenty in his hand. Damn. He sank back into the lounge, staring up at the ceiling, watching the smoke make patterns in the air. It was too hot to eat, too hot to breathe, to hot to itch that bug bite on his thigh. And moving was definitely out of the question.
He moved pretty fast when Haine made a strangled, gurgling noise.
Up, and back against the wall faster than he had moved in a week, staring at the freeloader raging on his lounge.
"What the fuck, man? You trying to scare me half to fucking death?" Badou snapped, but silenced when the red-eyed man glared.
"Shut up! I'm having a crisis!"
"Crisis? You're not the only one suffering in this fucking heat!" He ducked the hard-back book thrown in his direction, leaving it to thump into the wall. A small laugh of triumph from the gangly man. Haine bared exceptionally sharp, white teeth, and Badou swallowed a lump he hadn't felt rising in his throat.
"At least you're not shedding."
Badou paid for laughing.