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Nick didn't know why Brooklyn decided to order enough food to feed a family of fifty, but he wasn't complaining, not even as he had to lug all of it up five flights of stairs. He liked the place that she ordered from, and he knew that none of it would go to waste--even if he was literally the only person eating it. Mexican food was never a bad choice in Nick's book. Though Brooklyn hadn't explicitly stated that Roman would be eating with him, it was one of those things that didn't need to be said, as it was common enough for Nick to just assume it would happen one way or another. The three of them were a solid little trio, and even if none of them had consciously concluded it, they had become a family of sorts... at least in Nick's opinion. He and Brooklyn were obviously a pair, and Roman was like a brother. It was strange to consider how close they had become over the years because they were both fairly introverted, but despite the cheesiness of it, it kind of attested to the idea that some people were just meant to cross paths in life. He would have been surprised to hear that Brooke had invited Cara, but he wouldn't have been bothered by it. Perhaps it was because Nick didn't like conflict, but he would have wanted to see it as a good thing instead of a potentially awkward one. The ball was basically in Brooklyn's court in terms of putting that behind them or not, and while yes, Nick understood that it wasn't something she could just "get over", if she could do that, it would obviously be the best case scenario for everyone. Maybe Cara in all of her friends-with-rich-people-kind-of-benefits ways had proved that to Brooklyn this weekend.
"You didn't tell me you ordered enough food to fill the entire building," Nick said, picking up the bags he had placed down in order to free a hand to open the door. He didn't notice that Roman was there yet, as it took a few seconds to regroup and pick everything back up. He used his foot to kick the door shut behind him. "You tell me you don't want me to smoke all of the time, but then you do this and set me up for the perfect late night munchies session. I'm not complaining, but..." His voice trailer off as he headed into the kitchen, only then paying enough mind to his surroundings to notice that he wasn't alone with Brooklyn. "Ah, Killens. What's good, man?" he said, still preoccupied by all of the food that he was setting down on the counter. "You think they gave us chips and guac?" he asked, pulling things out of the bag. Words were scribbled on each container with what was stored inside, but the writing was nearly illegible. It didn't matter much to Nick, as he would eat anything and enjoy it, but he was craving the chicken enchiladas this place had, and he was about to call dibs on it if he could find it. He pulled the lids off of most of the containers before finding the one he wanted (to start with), and smiling in success. Chips and guac would be the mid-meal appetizer at this point, if it was included, since he could barely sit down before digging into what he was claiming as his. "How's the rat race treating you?" he said, looking to Roman with a smirk, as if he suspected the answer to be that he was miserable. Roman had been working for a few months now, and though maybe it came up momentarily in passing, it wasn't something that Nick had dug into too deeply. "What is it that you're doing, again? Life insurance or some shit?"
"You didn't tell me you ordered enough food to fill the entire building," Nick said, picking up the bags he had placed down in order to free a hand to open the door. He didn't notice that Roman was there yet, as it took a few seconds to regroup and pick everything back up. He used his foot to kick the door shut behind him. "You tell me you don't want me to smoke all of the time, but then you do this and set me up for the perfect late night munchies session. I'm not complaining, but..." His voice trailer off as he headed into the kitchen, only then paying enough mind to his surroundings to notice that he wasn't alone with Brooklyn. "Ah, Killens. What's good, man?" he said, still preoccupied by all of the food that he was setting down on the counter. "You think they gave us chips and guac?" he asked, pulling things out of the bag. Words were scribbled on each container with what was stored inside, but the writing was nearly illegible. It didn't matter much to Nick, as he would eat anything and enjoy it, but he was craving the chicken enchiladas this place had, and he was about to call dibs on it if he could find it. He pulled the lids off of most of the containers before finding the one he wanted (to start with), and smiling in success. Chips and guac would be the mid-meal appetizer at this point, if it was included, since he could barely sit down before digging into what he was claiming as his. "How's the rat race treating you?" he said, looking to Roman with a smirk, as if he suspected the answer to be that he was miserable. Roman had been working for a few months now, and though maybe it came up momentarily in passing, it wasn't something that Nick had dug into too deeply. "What is it that you're doing, again? Life insurance or some shit?"