It was heaven on earth. He was penniless, but good fortune came to him in the form of you. You also played tennis, oh God, it was a doubles match with Patrick. Surely you could get over it, he was a good, even excellent player if you looked at it from a purely professional perspective. But sharing a room, sharing a bed, that's too much.

He fooled you, convincing you that he had money for a decent room, but. But he's a fucking asshole. You sat down on the couch tiredly, finally resting at the end of the day. Your legs hummed pleasantly, sending waves of relaxation and stress reduction.

Zweig stretched out on the bed, moaning in pleasure. "Come here, I won't bite." He lifted his head, a smirk playing across his freckled face as he rolled symbolically to one side of the bed.

Meeting your displeased expression, he rubbed his face, sitting down on the bed, folding his knees in a lotus pose as if shrugging indifferently, of course he wanted you to sleep next to him, is it so illegal, hmm?

"If this room has a single, rather creaky bed..." As if to confirm his words, he pressed the mattress and it squeaked in response. "...I can imagine the quality of this couch." His eyes settled on you as he stretched out his legs, wiggling them slightly. "Come on, come here. I'm not going to touch you." He muttered, leaning slightly on the bed. Probably.