So Holden was discovering that he was very easily won over, and just the way Mitch regarded him was flattering. Usually people either had a problem with the 'alternative' look he'd settled on (if he landed in the wrong crowd somehow), or with his band's screaming approach rather than singing (which he was surprisingly self-conscious about, but then Holden was self-conscious about everything musical), or his height (which was stupid in itself). Anyway. It didn't seem like they were about to poke fun at him or something, and apparently that was the bar to meet. With what little conversation he'd had with them, or secondhand observed them having with someone else, they were just slightly dorky and very charismatic. No one from Pencey had anything bad to say about them or the rest of their group, for that matter... which was doing no good for Holden's recently swaying band loyalty.

[i]So’s yours.[/i] Again. Low standards. Holden kind of melted at what was barely even a compliment. Not a lot of people easily admitted to liking the sound of him whine-screaming into a mic and occasionally assisting his guitarist with his own thrashing of a guitar. [i]Oh, really? Lying is a bad habit, sugar, nobody actually buys records now.[/i] A rush of air escaped Holden's lips that sort of resembled a laugh, but sounded mostly awed out, and his expression matched. 'Sugar'? Jesus. He tried to get the hearts out of his eyes before speaking again. [b]"I do, when they're worth it,"[/b] he said, slightly quieter, forgetting the need to speak confidently over the sound of the rest of the bar. He nearly tried to come up with a nickname himself, something clever to reciprocate Mitch's boldness, but. Holden was kinda dumb usually; it was exponentially worse now. In fact he had to force himself not to reach out and help when they pushed hair from their eyes, settling on watching with a stupid look on his face.

As he hadn't thought it through, Holden realised belatedly that calling Mitch hot to their face was maybe not a good idea - especially when their response wasn't immediate. After the brief pause, though, it seemed like they weren't bothered at all, so he relaxed, glad that he'd evidently caught their full attention. [i]Beer’s fine.[/i] Another test, passed. Accepting beer was definitely another winning quality. Mostly just 'cause Holden was cheap as hell. Not broke enough to ignore the opportunity to score a great record, though, which he was quick to inquire about. [i]Right now, specially for you.[/i] Especially for him! Holden was dangerously close to spilling his drink on himself when he brought it away from his mouth, way too focused on Mitch's words. [b]"Sweet. I'll get you a [i]signed[/i] 'Heartbreak in Stereo.'"[/b] A weak joke - and at his own expense, no less - but Holden was only charming to an extent.

[i]Hey, that’s cool.[/i] Holden turned his head a little to bare the ink, smiling sheepishly. [b]"Thanks, it's a long story."[/b] He laughed a little, flippant, and tried to forget the dumb ass decision to never get a real job again. Maybe as a scarf model. [i]I love tats as a concept, but I’m fucking terrified of needles. Which is dumb as fuck, coming from me.[/i] Holden was on the verge of his usual tangent where, whenever someone said something about the pain or the needles, he'd reassure them that it's totally not that bad, but then 'coming from me' caught him off guard. What was so special about... oh. Holden wasn't sure if them exposing all the beauty of their sharp canines was on purpose or still none of his business, but he stared anyway, looking a little startled back up to meet their gaze after a moment. So he was admittedly a [i]bit[/i] frightened, confused, whatever, but also that was [i]so[/i] goddamn sexy. Holden found a barstool and promptly took his seat to give off at least the impression of composure.

While Holden was debating whether or not to outright ask about it, Mitch continued, their gaze moving downward again to his sleeves. [i]So, do they cover, like, everywhere..?[/i] About a dozen not-so-innocuous offers passed through his head, 'cause of course he really wanted them to know every single piece permanently on him, but this was like. Their first full conversation. Maybe not appropriate, right now. Regardless, Holden still ended up pushing his shirt up to his sternum, straightening up and hanging off the very edge of his seat to show the sparrows and text circling his hips. [b]"Yeah, check it out! I'm basically running out of space, but I figure I'll just do cover-ups 'til I die. Like, if you couldn't afford a new sketchbook so you just start drawing all over your other pieces..."[/b] He realised it was probably weird to be baring 70% of his abdomen in such a public space and dropped his shirt again, slouching to normal. [b]"Sometimes I design 'em myself. I'm not much of an artist, though."[/b]