"Where are you from? -If that's okay to ask... I mean," Ilari asked, his other thoughts interrupted by the promise of learning about this man. While he did agree, he wasn't warm enough for his liking, he wondered if "the warmth of home" wouldn't end up being too much for Ilari. As he listened, he pulled his legs up to his chest, hoping to bury his feet in the blanket that rested between the two men.

Ilari had lived in New York City for his entire life. It wasn't the most glamorous of living spaces, anywhere that Ilari had lived, and he desperately wished to get out and travel. Alas, he knew he didn't have the money to do that. He couldn't drive, so there was no sense in a road trip, even if he could afford that. The other option would be a plane ride, and, again, no money. If he ever did manage to make enough money without having to worry about his mother and sister, he would try to travel a bit...

"Texas," came the easy, practiced reply, "Near the border to Mexico, where my family came from two generations ago. They did not care to move very far. I had... Ah..." He trails off, there, furrowing his brows, "You have a word for it... Where you wish to travel and can hardly resist it- wanderlust! I have been stuck in New York for years, now." It was a well practiced lie, one he'd spent significant time working with and telling to the rare person who asked.

Ilari's movement to put his feet under the blanket was noted, then mimicked; that sounded like a brilliant idea, and a way to keep chilly toes warm. He was starting to curl up himself, though he couldn't quite get his knees to his chest as easily as the more slender man.

"Haha, wanderlust..." Ilari trailed off, looking away from the other. His arms were wrapped around his legs, and his chin rested on his knees. Something else that helped him look much smaller than he really was was that he was rather flexible. He had a lot going for him, when it came to throwing people off their guard. Anyway, that wasn't what he was thinking about, at that moment. He was pondering what the other had said. Wanderlust... "Stuck in New York sounds so familiar, to me," he murmured. "That's where I've been, all my life. I've never been out of the state - hell... I've never been out of the city." He leaned back against the couch, resting his head on the cushions.

"I wanna get out of here, some day, when I have the money to." With a slight tilt of his head, he was looking at the other man. "Just go on a road trip and see other places." He smiled, then sat up, realizing that he was talking about things he'd never intended to mention. "We should get some sleep."

"Never been out of the city... That is not something I can understand," is said with a small headshake, "The journey here took a long time. I feel like a fool for settling down... Though perhaps it is a good place to do so? Quite diverse, very large. Now if only it wasn't so cold." Another head shake is given, and Davi looks to the floor, "If I could leave, I don't think I would come back. Getting away for awhile sounds good, but it also sounds a waste of money if I have to return...".

With that, though, the Brazilian simply goes quiet, sighing. At the mention of getting some sleep, a single nod was given. "Yes, sleep, sleep sounds good." He was tired, and he hurt, and he could only hope that by morning all of that would be gone. Even so, he gave a gentle smile to Ilari.

Ilari listened to the other speak, quiet and getting a bit depressed, learning how incomprehensible it was, that he'd never left his home city. He wished he didn't know how it felt. A small chuckle was given, and he stood up, smiling to the other.

"It was good talking to you," he said, voice quiet, if warm and friendly. "If you need anything in the middle of the night, help yourself. The bathroom is over there." Ilari pointed to the bathroom door. He glanced around. He'd given Travis a pillow and a blanket, and so he nodded. Everything was in order. "G'night, man." He nodded, then headed off to his bedroom. A weird end to a weird day. He found himself wondering if Travis would still be there, in the morning. No matter. They'd find some way to stay in touch. He closed the door, but didn't lock it - partly out of habit, partly because the lock only worked some of the time, anyway - as he entered his bedroom, where he crawled under his cool but comfortable blankets and snuggled in for some sleep.

Davi followed the pointing to the bathroom door, giving a nod at that; that would probably be important later at night. He was kind of surprised at the offer to help himself to other things, however. This man was just as bad off as he was, perhaps even a bit worse, yet he was offering what little he had so freely? It was surprising to him, and kind of warming in a way, while simultaneously odd. Someone so kindhearted tried to rob him, that wasn't particularly expected.

"Thank you," came the response from the darker skinned young man, "And good night." With the good nights said, he started to set up the bed, only pausing long enough to take his still-wet clothing and drape it over the shower rail so that it could dry before morning. That done, he climbed into the cocoon he'd made of the comforter, setting his MP3 player beneath the pillow and putting the headphones in his ears. With the volume turned down, and some slower music set on shuffle, he was set for sleep, and made his way into it within a tiny handful of those songs. At least he didn't snore.

It had been a good sleep. No, a wonderful sleep. Ilari had snuggled in and passed out for the whole night, sleeping straight through until some time in the morning. Once he woke up, he stuck his arm out from under his blankets and smacked around on the bedside table. A few books were knocked off of the table, in his search, but he found what he was looking for soon enough. The watch - his only method of telling time - was snatched form the bedside table and pulled beneath the covers. With the poke of a button on the side, the numbers illuminated, and Ilari saw the time.

8:47 was as good of a time to wake up as any. With that, Ilari stretched, replaced the watch on the table, and slipped out of bed. He didn't straighten his covers - he never saw a point to - and he staggered out, sleepily, into the main room of his home. His brain hadn't quite caught up to the previous night's events, so he went right to the kitchen to find himself something to eat.

It wouldn't be hard at all to miss that Davi was no longer present in the apartment, though such things would probably take until the Russian was actually awake enough to remember that he'd been there in the first place. The only real signs of his former presence were that the comforter he'd been loaned was carefully, tidily folded atop the couch with the pillow placed on it, and the fact that the bathroom was still vaguely damp from the quick shower the younger man had taken before he left.

Well, that and the note that was written on a memo pad that had been found in the kitchen. It was concise, neatly written, and possibly surprisingly well spelled, considered the thickness of Davi's accent. The only thing it didn't really follow was the usual letter structure one might expect, showing in just a largely unformatted chunk of words.

Thank you again, Ilari, for the help and the place to stay for the night out of the cold. I have gone to work, so do not worry that I ran away due to having done something wrong. Though I did take a shower, just to save time before work.

Once Ilari was awake enough, and had started looking around for food, he spotted the memo pad and leaned over it to see what he'd written, thinking it a note to himself. Upon finding out that that assumption was, indeed, incorrect, he smiled rather warmly. Clearly, last night was not a mistake. He'd made an odd friend in a... very strange way. Even stranger, they had no way to find each other again.

Perhaps they'd never meet again? Perhaps it was a one-time meeting. Or, perhaps, he thought, as he moved to pour himself some cereal. Perhaps they would run into each other again, and become closer friends. It wasn't as if Ilari had a phone to be called, which made maintaining friendships somewhat difficult. He gave a shrug and dug in to his breakfast.

What a weird day, it had been.