[ And there. Dry. Shirt pulled down and pup set back on the ground, Tristan tightens the line of his lips and huffs something caught between amused and playful. Old? Him? ... Probably. Mid-twenties is usually the cut-off for jerking around with game consoles and video games and the like, but there's still a playstation tucked away below his television and an array of games in the cabinet. With him getting up in years, he's probably supposed to begin collecting board games and card games and things a little less button smashing friendly; though, instead of video and board, there's always the college games, except— ] Actually, I think you're too young. [ And there's the quirk, the one that has his smile widening for the tease. ] Can't break out the good games, the good drinks when you're... nineteen, was it? [ A pause. ] Bummer. [ Obnoxious drinking games, beer pong, yeah, all those ridiculous games the undergraduates obsess themselves with... – hell, maybe he is getting old. He hasn't played any of those in the longest time, not that he'd ever been particularly enthused to play them before, but he only makes mention, because, well, Tyler started it, and he had to finish it. And there, he wanders over to snatch one of his coffees and then... ah, is he really going to have to untangle all the cords and figure out which discs are in which cases? Wouldn't watching television be easier, kid? ]
I'LL TAKE IT EASY ON YOU FROM NOW ON, FINE