The short answer was no. He did not read a lot. Well there had been a point at which he had, back when he'd been sober and looking for all sorts of things to do, to fill his time other than get high. Work had helped, but his job had been at night and he'd basically been a glorified cash register babysitter and janitor. There had been a lot of free time for him there to do whatever he wanted. Books, music, gaming, puzzles. He had basically scrawled his way through an entire book's worth of Sudoku one night trying to take his mind off of the puzzle he really wanted to solve. And for a while, that had worked, distracting himself from the problem. He shook his head in response to Grey, choosing the path that offered up the least in explanation. Most of the books had been gifts from someone that Jameson had more than let down. He would probably end up tossing them in the near future so he didn't have to think about it too terribly much.
He leaned closer when he caught sight of those teeth. The other man's mouth was surprisingly well preserved for having been an addict. Jameson himself had not had the best oral hygiene prior to having been turned. He hadn't been all gap-faced as one might have expected, but his teeth had certainly suffered from years of neglect and abuse. It was maybe more intimate than the gesture should have been, when he outright brushed the pad of one finger against a canine as if to check for its sharpness. Had he--no. Grey was definitely not a vampire. He didn't offer any explanation at first, and then gestured to his wall, which had some pretty graphic representations of vampirism. Thankfully art didn't really fall into the category of 'evidence'. "Just checking." He muttered. Which probably just made him seem deluded. Better crazy than dead though, he supposed.
He regarded the other man quietly then for a moment. He could probably have demanded something sexual from Grey, and the truth was that there likely wasn't much that Weston could have done if he really wanted to get high. Jameson knew how that was. To be willing to humiliate one's self for a fix. It was part of why he refused to take part in that sort of thing himself. He chose not to respond verbally, if only because that seemed lame. Reassuring another junkie that he wasn't going to take advantage. So instead, he let his hand rest against a shoulder, lazily squeezing down before his fingers tipped away.
"What I really want is to suck your blood." He replied with the sort of deadpan honesty that could have easily either made the situation very uneasy, or might have been passable as a poorly spoken joke. Made more appropriate, if slightly, by the exchange from just a second before. He rolled his eyes just a second later before he drew himself up to stand, so he could shuffle off towards the kitchen. He ended up nabbing a spoon and filled a foggy, but otherwise clean glass with some tap water before he made his way back, tossing the metal utensil to his companion before he laid the drink down on the bedside table. He didn't bother flopping back into his bed, instead standing there, arms folded over his chest so that he could watch the other male work.
The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt. Especially when they were both desperately close to getting what they craved.
He leaned closer when he caught sight of those teeth. The other man's mouth was surprisingly well preserved for having been an addict. Jameson himself had not had the best oral hygiene prior to having been turned. He hadn't been all gap-faced as one might have expected, but his teeth had certainly suffered from years of neglect and abuse. It was maybe more intimate than the gesture should have been, when he outright brushed the pad of one finger against a canine as if to check for its sharpness. Had he--no. Grey was definitely not a vampire. He didn't offer any explanation at first, and then gestured to his wall, which had some pretty graphic representations of vampirism. Thankfully art didn't really fall into the category of 'evidence'. "Just checking." He muttered. Which probably just made him seem deluded. Better crazy than dead though, he supposed.
He regarded the other man quietly then for a moment. He could probably have demanded something sexual from Grey, and the truth was that there likely wasn't much that Weston could have done if he really wanted to get high. Jameson knew how that was. To be willing to humiliate one's self for a fix. It was part of why he refused to take part in that sort of thing himself. He chose not to respond verbally, if only because that seemed lame. Reassuring another junkie that he wasn't going to take advantage. So instead, he let his hand rest against a shoulder, lazily squeezing down before his fingers tipped away.
"What I really want is to suck your blood." He replied with the sort of deadpan honesty that could have easily either made the situation very uneasy, or might have been passable as a poorly spoken joke. Made more appropriate, if slightly, by the exchange from just a second before. He rolled his eyes just a second later before he drew himself up to stand, so he could shuffle off towards the kitchen. He ended up nabbing a spoon and filled a foggy, but otherwise clean glass with some tap water before he made his way back, tossing the metal utensil to his companion before he laid the drink down on the bedside table. He didn't bother flopping back into his bed, instead standing there, arms folded over his chest so that he could watch the other male work.
The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt. Especially when they were both desperately close to getting what they craved.