It was probably unfair in the first place to restrict Brendon from entering a room in the house he now lived in indefinitely; after all, what said 'you're not welcome here' more than sectioning someone off into one place when he had all of this available space? Ryan was just incredibly private and intended to keep it that way, at least partially. He was gradually getting better at opening up to Brendon, both for the sake of the novel and because they were becoming friends anyway, but there were still things he'd like to keep to himself permanently - possessions or thoughts or ideas that not even Jon or Spencer had seen, all locked away in his study. At this point he should've probably reconsidered the value he placed in all of these things. It's not like he dusted everything off or memorialized it or gave it a shrine, nothing like that. All of his father's paperwork and old correspondence between them and the rare photo sat in a cardboard box on a shelf, untouched and uncared for; all of his own journals and schoolwork that somehow held sentimental worth were shoved into drawers that he never opened. So nothing was really too sacred to keep from Brendon - Ryan was just high strung.

And he was the same when he entered the study, mysteriously unlocked and hanging open, regarding a much more nonchalant Brendon with a calculatedly blank expression. Brendon was looking at him in a very specific way he probably would've appreciated at any other time, but now it just made him feel worse, because he [i]was[/i] pissed but Brendon looked like [i]that[/i] and it was hard to [i]stay[/i] pissed. So, pissed off and frustrated. Ryan tried to keep it under wraps for both of their sakes, pointedly ignoring the way Brendon immediately bit his lip and actually batted his eyelashes, like he thought he was in a cartoon. Honestly. Maybe he was way more than drunk. [i]Hey, you sound[/i] hot. Definitely more than drunk. Though his expression remained the same, Ryan quickly blinked a few times in succession, mostly confused by his forwardness. It's not that that was unlike Brendon, just - he'd never said anything quite like that before with such ease. 

[i]And anyway, I told you I smoke, and you still haven’t ever actually fuckin’ offered. You’ve made me resort to fuckin’ stealing.[/i] [b]"I didn't realize I was obligated to offer you any when you could get your own. Was I supposed to offer you drinks so that you didn't steal any of that, either?"[/b] Ryan made no mention of the fact that he didn't actually [i]mind[/i] any of that, just the fact that he'd quite literally broken into the study, but. He may as well keep Brendon on edge if he was already in trouble. It appeared to be working; Ryan was familiar with how Brendon looked when he was nervous, or when anxiety was building, and he always felt bad about it usually. He never meant to intimidate him or make him feel bad or shame him, any of that, but he made so many social faux pas that it sort of happened a lot anyway. This time he could see Brendon catching on to the fact that he'd made a mistake and was glad he could at least be that perceptive in this state.

Regardless, Brendon was obedient, taking his legs off the desk and rolling away from it in his chair in due time. Ryan held his gaze steadily, half occupied trying to distinguish exactly how drunk he was at this point, whether he'd have to, like, carry him back to bed. They were quite a distance away by now. [i]Anything else you’d like me to do?[/i] The smug look on his face said a lot in itself. Ryan was kind of afraid to hear whatever he was thinking. [i]Get on my knees? In a heartbeat.[/i] Ryan mentally cringed alongside Brendon's common sense, thinking that whatever [i]Fifty Shades[/i] fantasy he had going on in his head needed to be extinguished as soon as possible. How the hell was he supposed to react to that? Not humoring him seemed to be the best answer, so Ryan narrowed his eyes at Brendon for a moment before seizing the bottle of alcohol, his other hand hovering uncertainly in preparation to catch a very unsteady looking New Yorker.

[i]I’d exhausted all other fuckin’ entertainment.[/i] What? Ryan had forgotten he'd even asked a question. Mostly he was still dwelling on the 'get on my knees?' bullshit from earlier. Brendon certainly bore a certain shock factor. Anyway - that was his fault. When you realized all the technological distractions were kind of empty, and you were someone like Brendon who had little interest in his expansive library, it got boring. He wasn't doing a great job keeping his only guest occupied. Ryan looked at the bottle in his hand for a few long moments, hesitant, before finally gingerly placing it on the desk. [i]And I was curious why you keep this shit locked all the fuckin’ time. Journals? I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to a sex tape on your computer- hey, what’s your password?[/i] Ryan still looked slightly distracted, but he furrowed his brow at Brendon, confused - a sex tape? Had Brendon met him? Ryan had about as much scandal as a baby carrot. Even if he didn't have a [i]sex tape[/i] to his name, there was still absolutely nothing interesting on his computer, at least nothing that might appeal to Brendon.

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he was about to welcome him with open arms to all of his information. He stared at Brendon impatiently while he gave all his attention to the screen, waiting until he finally looked up again, then planted his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning in until their eyeline was more level. [b]"I gave you one rule, Brendon. Not to go in my study. When I welcome you to the entire house, I expect you to respect [i]my[/i] space."[/b] He paused, studying the way Brendon was trying desperately to maintain balance and only awkwardly succeeding, then nodded at him promptly. [b]"Sit back down. You'll fall."[/b] He straightened up again, scrubbing one hand over his face and hooking the other around his hipbone. Ryan spared a brief glance around before looking again at Brendon, tiny and wasted and in his old [i]jersey,[/i] and he couldn't be that angry at him. After a moment he tried offering an explanation of sorts, if only to fill the time until Brendon inevitably passed out from boredom or intoxication. [b]"You wouldn't have found anything interesting. It's all just... whatever I saved from my place back in Colorado."[/b]

He examined the bottle again listlessly, something like a scowl playing on his lips, sloshed the liquid around a little. Guess now was a better time than ever to reveal that, yes, he did know what Brendon had been up to, he wasn't that ridiculously oblivious. [b]"I don't care what you drink, Brendon. Stop refilling shit with water, though. Just tell me what to replace, Christ."[/b] It was more funny than it was annoying at the moment, somehow, which made it hard to look very serious at all, but. Ryan solved that issue by very determinedly fixing his gaze on the leftover alcohol in his hand rather than at Brendon.