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He had not been expecting an apology. Despite appearances, Remington very rarely lost his cool, a testament in truth to how controlled he was in most situations. There were really only a few things that had the ability to get under his skin in any meaningful way. It was halting for him to realize that Sterling was rapidly becoming one of those. Most would probably have attributed that to the difference in fundamental species. Vampires and humans were not meant to co-exist on the basis of understanding or affection. One was inherently predator and the other prey. More than that though, they had not seen each other in years. Years. And it was a sock to the gut that they had never been romantic before, and then suddenly there was this heat and tension between them like a taut piece of string connecting them. It wasn't love at first sight - he didn't believe in that garbage but...close?

Confusing. The whole situation was difficult to pin down because it was messy and emotional.

Apologies were something Remington didn't get very often, which was probably his fault more than anything. He either distanced himself from a situation, or he got too involved. When he got too involved, things tended to go badly for him, because he had a tendency to voice his opinion less-than-helpfully. People rarely felt the need to apologize to someone they felt was antagonistic. The clench of his jaw loosened and there was a slight droop to either corner of his lips, a frown brought on by an immediate sensation of guilt. Had he pushed things too far? Or was he meant to feel vindicated? he was a bit at a loss. Thankfully Sterling was at his back, and couldn't see the furious shift in emotions that rose dangerously close to the surface. Maybe Remi was just tired.

He leaned back, his head tipped down so that he could glance to the ground as he felt the other man's body nudged flush against his own. It was like that anger suddenly switched right off. "Don't worry about it. I know how it sounds, and all I can even say is that it's the truth." He decided to leave it at that, allowing the human to guide them into a room. Then Sterling pulled away and the door was being shut. The entire time, Remington was quiet, lost in thoughts. But once that promise was uttered, he couldn't stop himself from dropping his bag so that he could turn around. Right as the mortal was about to leave to make a phone call.

He bridged the small gap that had formed between them, this time not in anger but so that he could drag Sterling close. It was a silly, stupid thing, a grown man needing for whatever irrational reason, to hug another man. Perhaps if it had been a lustful endeavour, that might have accounted for the affection, but it was less than that and more all at once. Comfort. He squeezed his lover to his chest, head tipping so he could steal a kiss for a second time, their lips pressed together once. Twice. Five more in quick succession. Not a sultry or passionate affair, but soft all the same. "You sure? That's a big move." He admitted, which was about as close as he got to saying that he was being demanding (and possibly unfair).

He had a room to prepare, but for some reason, sharing a moment with Sterling seemed more important. So he carefully pinned the other male against the door with his hips, his shoulders rolling back so he could stare into eyes, slowly dragging his frame from side to side like an animal settling into its spot to rest for the night. "I have some stuff to put together before bed. Stay with me tonight?"

It's the truth. A minor flash of annoyance registered in his features. Subtle and fleeting, and mercifully hidden from Remington - obstructed as it was behind his back. It took the shape of a faint tightening of the jaw, lips thinning into a flat line of skepticism. It was irrational, he knew. Both Remington's instance and his own stubborn disinterest in playing along. It'd be one thing if Remington were ******* with him. That would have been easier to accept. But there was an intensity in the other man's tone, a sense of earnestness that made it empirically clear that if nothing else, he firmly believed in what he was saying. And yeah, it did sound like ********. But it wasn't frenzied, the way conspiracy theorists and evangelicals tended to be. It wasn't fanaticism. It didn't lessen his expectancy that the man would suddenly break into a lopsided grin, sly and showing too many teeth. Mainly because it was so unlike him. Or was it? What did he honestly know about him? What had he ever really known?

"Mmm. Is it?" He settled on, leaning in to absently nip the nape of his neck. The response was carefully neutral. He would listen, if Remington felt like talking about it. Given how he'd reacted, however, he doubted he'd broach the subject again. He pulled away reluctantly a minute later. He had been honest about needing to make a call, though in all probability it could have waited. He wasn't entirely in sync with the difference in time zones quite yet. Remington caught him just as he turned, one hand already on the handle. He found himself being dragged towards him for the second time in as many minutes. He didn't resist, content to tuck against Remington's chest. As much as their height would allow, at least. He hesitated for a split second, admittedly startled by the sensation of the vampire's arms around him. It was unexpected, and some part of him craved the contact.

He reached up a second later, arms wrapping around him in kind to return the embrace. His chin angled up, head tilting slightly to accept his kiss. Kisses, as it turned out; soft and quick in succession. Part of him wanted to say no, he wasn't. That he was sure of surprisingly little recently, and, really, should probably be questioning his sanity. But that wasn't quite true. He was sure of something. Someone. He shrugged, head tipping forward to bury against the crook of Remington's neck. Content to quietly breathe in his scent. A shallow nod greeted his words. "One of the perks about being self-employed is that I can move my office wherever I'd like." He paused. "It just...might take a few weeks. It doesn't just affect me." He'd barely finished speaking before he was pinned against the door, the pressure of the other man's hips keeping him neatly in place. He started at up him, lifting an eyebrow pointedly.

"Stuff." He repeated. "Just don't start putting holes in the walls. Eighty five a night is already pushing it without the manager coming for my balls," he said dryly. With that, his head tilted up to press another chaste kiss against his mouth before gently pushing away from him, making his way to the single double bed tucked into the left hand corner of the room. He paused just long enough to toe off his shoes before turning down the sheets and slipping under them. A low nightstand, scored with years of water stains and unidentifiable grooves, housed the remote. He snatched it up a second later, powering on the cheap, squat television hunched on top of the cheap row of dresser drawers. Early morning traffic reports trickled in in bright, saturated colors from the local news station. Weather. A late-night movie channel and at least three stations of colored bars, droning their emergency broadcast noise, toneless and shrill.

A channel that was mostly static, with brief glimpses of bare skin and an outdated soundtrack. He flicked through these rapidly, settling at last on a historical documentary. It wasn't long before the remote slid from his loosened grip, his breathing soft and even.