[The tidiness is a default that he is pointedly maintaining so as not to Alarm too many people.
The request Kurt bring a bag is more. He knows Kurt can teleport but it was the easiest way to ask him to spend the night - or invite him to - he could think of without admitting some kind of need or desire.
He smiles, in a tight, pained, way at the remark and holds out his hand for... the bag or bottle or Kurt.]
Don't steal my lines; I'll have to make up a pet name and end up calling you waffles or something equally awkward.
[ Alright, well. "Waffles" gets something between a burst of laughter and an indignant snort out of him. He remembers part of his intent here, loosens in demeanor, and digs into his bag before dropping a bottle into Scott's hand. He doesn't withdraw his own hand for a moment, though, tipping it against Scott's as if encouraging him to read the label.
It's nice whiskey. Not that it matters, particularly. They'll either waste it or will hardly break into it at all, depending on preferences. It's just obviously stolen, and stealing from Logan is funny. ]
I encourage you to think about it, mein Freund. I don't think I want to be called Waffles. I couldn't take it very seriously.
[He looks but then huffs and very slowly removes every sock from his drawer, goes from how they're folded together to rolling them together and makes a black to white gradiant of them.
[ He sits cross-legged watching his boyfriend literally fold his fucking socks by their color. Midnighter says nothing, though. Just lets Scott do what he feels like he needs to do. ]
[ Midnighter straightens out his legs to give Scott a more comfortable place to lie down. One forearms rests atop the man's chest lightly while the other cards through his dark brown hair. ]
Page 146 of 147