At least wild animal maulings were more interesting than showers. Unless those showers were being shared... James suddenly shook his head sharply to clear the thought. Realizing the gesture was not exactly subtle and his guest was not exactly blind either, he cleared his throat to awkwardly contribute to the conversation. "I don't know that I'd be good at... uh... beach stuff. Don't think I'd be very good at shark wrangling. Wouldn't know where to throw the lasso." James even put a little more affectation into the drawl to try and distract from how dumb he sounded, or at least justify it to those who thought cowbows sounded like idiot bumpkins.
At least Nate hadn't been home to hear him talk about fucking lassoing sharks. Shit if that pup didn't get home soon James was damn sure he was just going to fall apart and make a bigger fool of himself. And hey, at least Keiran seemed to be having an okay enough time, sharing his tequila, sitting on his couch, staring at his sharks. James took the bottle and automatically refilled his guests shot glass once it was empty and then took a pull on the bottle for his own shot.
And then he nearly died as Keiran asked about the goddamn pants. He sputtered, tequila went down the wrong tube and he coughed and managed to set the bottle back down safely on the table without spilling any more than the spray that shot out of his nose. "Ah fuck!" Didn't matter he'd been shot, broken bones, gotten mauled, cut up, hit by bulls, nothing ever left his eyes watering and him whimpering like a goddamn baby like having a nose full of alcohol.
Once he'd manage to grab a few tissues and soothe his nose he just collapsed back, only half on the couch anymore as he breathed and rubbed his eyes. "Ah fuck that still stings. Sheeeit. Sorry, you just... just caught me by surprise with them horndogs. I mean with yer question." At least the red in his face could probably be explained by the tragic tequila incident. Not that he didn't want to just go dig a hole and hide in it still. "Them's horndogs on yer pants. Friend of mine thought it would be funny. I thought they were just cowdogs at first."
At least Nate hadn't been home to hear him talk about fucking lassoing sharks. Shit if that pup didn't get home soon James was damn sure he was just going to fall apart and make a bigger fool of himself. And hey, at least Keiran seemed to be having an okay enough time, sharing his tequila, sitting on his couch, staring at his sharks. James took the bottle and automatically refilled his guests shot glass once it was empty and then took a pull on the bottle for his own shot.
And then he nearly died as Keiran asked about the goddamn pants. He sputtered, tequila went down the wrong tube and he coughed and managed to set the bottle back down safely on the table without spilling any more than the spray that shot out of his nose. "Ah fuck!" Didn't matter he'd been shot, broken bones, gotten mauled, cut up, hit by bulls, nothing ever left his eyes watering and him whimpering like a goddamn baby like having a nose full of alcohol.
Once he'd manage to grab a few tissues and soothe his nose he just collapsed back, only half on the couch anymore as he breathed and rubbed his eyes. "Ah fuck that still stings. Sheeeit. Sorry, you just... just caught me by surprise with them horndogs. I mean with yer question." At least the red in his face could probably be explained by the tragic tequila incident. Not that he didn't want to just go dig a hole and hide in it still. "Them's horndogs on yer pants. Friend of mine thought it would be funny. I thought they were just cowdogs at first."
