"Oh, that's so fair, I retract everything. I'm Xander, and I wish to God it was less easy to figure out my actual name from that."

It is time to parallel park. Motorbikes make this task straightforward.

Off the motorcycle, off with the helmet. "It's lovely to meet you, Xander."

"Oh, I'm sure."

Stowing gear. Haru presumably has a key to his own airBNB. Xander has no idea how to even interact with the concept and will resolutely refuse to care if he gets fluids on the comforter-or-what-have-you, it's probably factored into the cost.

The AirBnB has a code, which Haru does know but has to say out loud while he's inputting it while staring with inordinate concentration at the number pad. "It's... I remember it's... seventeen thirty-two because Ren sort of sang it to herself to memorize it, right. Probably they change it between guests or something anyway." Beep boop boop beep and they're in.

"I'd look up if anything interesting happened in that particular Year of Our Lord if I was allowed to use a phone this backlashed," Xander says, removing his boots. "History book in my head says maybe an eclipse, but it's a pretty shit history book. I think it's just that I know an eclipse happened in the 18th century and I'd think of it for any year you named."

He gets back to his now-denuded feet. "Anyway. You up for some pashing or is it down to business?"

"Is pashing an Australianism I'm not acquainted with?"

"Evidence points to yeah – kissing, making out, swapping spit?"

"Please." And now kissing.

Pashing, even.

He should probably wend his general way towards the bedroom, but he's got no idea where it is, and finding it out seems like it would involve detaching their mouths, so instead he reaches inside Haru's trousers. If they end up rutting in the lounge, well, that's not a negative for him until and unless it's a negative for Haru.

Haru is OK with this outcome if the noises and the clutching are any indication, though it's possible some of those twitches are - yep, there we go, shuffling steps bedwards.

Merrily merrily follow along.

he did not want to get buggered on the carpet and clearly this means that Xander should kill himself for thinking it would be okay to initiate before he knew where the bed is some thoughts can be quiet thoughts which we do not need to actually think.

Merrily merrily and here's the bed. How does Haru feel about the Congress of the Crow, that old favorite for maximizing bilateral fluid exchange, the sixty-nine? It's kind of precarious at the best of times but they're not far from each other in height, especially with a couple of extra inches to help bridge the gap.

but that means a gap in the kissing no this makes perfect sense of course and Haru is all for efficiency.