“An actor?” Kurt’s tone is wry, more amused than mean at this point. He turns his glass around on the bartop, watching the dim lights above them play across the whiskey as it swirls in the shot glass. “No, not quite.”
Despite his career path of choice being maybe a little too on the nose, he’d never been particularly good at playing to type, and there was only ever one trope for boys like him in Hollywood. Whatever it said about himself or others, people took him more seriously as a designer than anything else. “I, ah, I’m in fashion.” He shrugs. “I make things.”
Normally he’d brag, but Sam doesn’t exactly seem like the type to care. Before the thought can get the better of him he throws back the last shot, pleasantly warm and loose and not quite tipsy, though it’s certainly getting harder to be subtle about checking Sam out.
That is not Kurt’s fault, either. He is awfully pretty. “I’ll be sure to keep that little bargain to myself, then.” He musters up something like a friendly smile for the first time since he walked in. “I’d hate for you to go broke before you get to ply me with liquor again.”
It honestly surprises Sam to hear that Kurt isn’t an actor. From the minute he saw him standing by the bar, Kurt exuded a presence that just seemed fit for being in front of an audience. Maybe it’s his confidence or the fact that he’s like no one else that Sam’s encountered, but Kurt’s demeanor screams performer more than it does designer.
Sam uses the opportunity to examine Kurt a little more closely as he rakes his eyes up and down his body. He tells himself that he’s just checking out Kurt’s outfit, but he definitely takes him time to admire the svelte figure underneath the clothes. Once he realizes what he’s doing he quickly shifts his eyes and looks at his own outfit. The faded jeans and western-style button down doesn’t scream fashion-forward and he looks up at Kurt and shrugs. “Yeah, well… I don’t know much about fashion, but that’s cool.”
He takes a quick pull from his beer before motioning towards the bottle of Jack. “You up for another one or are ya good?” Working in a bar has given him a high tolerance, but after three shots in quick succession, even he’s beginning to feel the effects set in. “Yeah, let’s just keep this our secret. I’m not sure Puck would like me giving out free drinks.” He laughs at that thought because honestly, Puck would be shocked knowing that Sam let someone drink for free. Usually it’s Puck who’s quick to give a free drink to any female who bats her eyelashes at him and Sam is the stingy one. “So you’re planning on visiting me again then?”