Dustyn exhales through his nostrils in exasperation upon hearing that Blake has also messaged Erich. It's no surprise to him but having it confirmed chronically churns his stomach. Blake being in contact with his loved ones just feels so icky. "I'm really sorry. Don't mean for you to be dragged in amongst it all. Hell, don't mean for anyone to get involved. Myself included. I just want to live my life. It's a pile of shite that someone's taken it upon themselves to intervene and make things difficult." Dustyn has never looked for a fight or any sort of drama. There are people who live for that type of stuff. Dustyn isn't one of them. He just happens to naturally find himself falling into it. The boy is like a magnet for weirdos. Present company and husband excluded, of course. "I know you won't and I totally trust you with my life but just want to reiterate...don't tweet anything out about me being on the ship, won't you, eh?" Dustyn taps at Erich's foot under the covers with his own as he speaks. A nervous jitter of sorts. "Just want to be totally off the map for a while."

Dustyn lets out a half-suppressed laugh as Erich alludes to him and Dallas making up for lost time on the ship. The sex is always great and very welcomed but it's the intimacy he misses most. "Oh we've got a bunch of catching up to do! He deserves it after putting up with all the bullshit I've brought to him." Dustyn speaks with a hint of venom in his voice, seemingly mad at himself. While he's not responsible for Blake's actions, Dustyn still feels guilty for ever getting involved with him in the first place and also becoming overly cautious and protective. He hasn't been himself the past few months and Dallas has adapted and respected his wishes without any qualms. "Even sharing a bed with just him and I will be great. I miss the real snuggles, you know?" With the pair of them sharing the bed with their boys, all that stuff is completely out of the question. "I miss his willy too." Dustyn chortles, lightening the mood again. "Speaking of meat...how were the steak and potatoes I made for you earlier? I never know if Dallas is being super kind about it because I don't eat steak myself and neither do the boys. Put my mind at ease, Erich. Am I really a wizard with a slab of beef?"

"I'll keep my wanger under the covers, don't worry!" Dustyn giggles, speaking in a soft and whisper-like voice as he gives Erich a reassuring pat on the hand. Watching Erich lay the rest of the bottles down on the covers, he pouts his lips and nods in approval. More than enough for a great night. "I don't know what a bunch of these are to be honest. We just ordered random packs of miniatures from Amazon. I've never had peppermint schnapps myself. I usually down these things." Dustyn picks up a mini bottle of Malibu. Of course it's sweet and coconutty. Dustyn all over. His fluffy hair is exuding that scent right now. "Murray's Pomade holds WHAT?!" Dustyn widens his eyes comically and laughs, pretending to be offended by an innuendo that isn't even one.

He shuffles over towards the dimmer switch, thankfully staying under the covers this time and not giving his friend a private show. Reaching over, he turns the switch right now. "Ooh!" Dustyn blurts out as the room falls into complete darkness. Pitch black. There's no difference between their eyes being opened and closed at this point. They'll definitely get a sound sleep when the time comes but for now it's more like a case of sensory deprivation. Dustyn scoots back over to Erich's side. He feels around and takes hold of Erich's wrist in a supportive manner. "No need to freak out in the dark. I got you." Dustyn speaks in whispers as that seems to be the done thing once lights do down for some reason. After sitting in silence for a few seconds, he turns to Erich's ear. "You think Cassie is standing in the far corner?" He lets out a muffled mischievous giggle, the rising of his tummy causing many clinks from the glass bottles on top of the covers. He unscrews the Malibu he's had in his grip this whole time, getting off to an easy start as he actually knows what this beverage is.

Dustyn downs his coconut rum in one, tilting his head back and emptying the contents of the bottle straight down his throat. He'd normally have most of these with mixers rather than straight but tonight he's on a mission to get drunk. It takes a lot to get Dustyn completely legless so there's a while yet before he becomes too Irish to understand. Hopefully with being in bed he'll be more inclined to pass out before hitting that wall. "Well, if he does make his way onto the ship then you have permission to push the cunt overboard." Although sounding farfetched, it's still a plausible scenario to Dustyn. Before Blake went completely off the deep end, there were still a couple instances where his ex tracked him down and cornered him in person.

"I'm even enjoying sleeping like this for the first time in months. With the boys around, I've been back in pyjamas. Shay's also 11 and really aware of things. Few years back he asked why Dallas' willy looked different from mine. Trying to explain circumcision was horrifying for all involved. So yeah, with the boys around all the couples stuff is out of the question. We're not creeps. We don't vote Fianna Fáil." Dustyn slips into Irish, just casually assuming that Erich would know the name of Ireland's conservative, centre-right party. He pauses for a second, just staring out into the vast darkness. "Who's John Saxon? Is that the guy Mercedes taught some martial arts to?" And indeed it was. Not that it can be seen in the black void of a room, but Dustyn blushes and grins from ear to ear when Erich compliments his cooking. "Thank you for enjoying my meat. And my potatoes too! I only ever make them for my American friends, not the band. Seeing Englishmen eat my potatoes triggers generational trauma." Dustyn loves his bandmates but every so often he gets a naughty voice from his ancestors in his head telling him to petrol bomb the bastards. "Anyone who eats mayo needs shot." Dustyn says flatly.

"Wanger is when it's all floppy and Chubber is when it's...you know...excited to see ya!" Dustyn giggles and playfully elbows Erich under the covers. "There's some words you can take back to The Duke." Feeling around the bottle, Dustyn has a good rummage to heighten the anticipation of what he's going to pick. He grabs a more cuboid feeling bottle as opposed to smooth and cylindrical. Taking a small sip, he smacks his lips together while processing the flavour profile before coughing a little as it fully hits him. "Fucking Hell, that tastes like lighter fluid and rotten melons." He lets out a disgusted grunt which is unexpectedly more gruff and manly sounding in comparison to his usually lilted, cheery everyday voice. "Hands on? H-hands on what, Erich? Hands on what?!" Dustyn shakes Erich's shoulder in an animated fashion, doing his best B Movie overacting and speaking in a freakishly accurate old-timey movie voice as he pretends to be scared of the non-existent lurking Cassie. In a split second, a brand new thought enters Dustyn's head and he instantly drops the acting and slips into his regular old self. "Oh by the way, you might get to see one of my brothers tomorrow. He's coming to help put some of my things into storage. He's straight and has a van, you see. Don't worry, Patrick's a nice one." Dustyn gives Erich a reassuring pat before he vows to fight someone. Though it could still be a case of Dustyn being too sweet and giving his brother the benefit of the doubt as he still hasn't seen much of him in the last 10 years either.

"How are things going in regard to the whole long-lost son saga, by the way? He seems like a lovely guy." Dustyn pauses for a moment, feeling around for a fresh new bottle to drink. "God knows where he gets that from." Giggling, Dustyn unscrews the cap and gingerly sips after the trauma of the last one. Tastes like a spiced bourbon. Not too bad. Dustyn often forgets to check in when it comes to Micah and that whole can of worms because Erich's son genuinely seems like no trouble at all. That might not be the case though. Dustyn might have to kick some serious ass. Or at least have a real good bitch about him. "Oh I'd love to see an angry Dallas." Dustyn lets out a dirty chuckle, playfully nudging Erich's legs under the covers. "Actually, I've only ever seen him real mad once. Was scary. Not that he was threatening or anything. Just felt real unnatural. It'd be like hearing Lincoln swear or Cher sing in tune." If anything, Dustyn is the more fiery one of the two and even he's as sweet as they come. They seemingly live as a picture perfect couple. Even the Blake thing is handled with as much grace as possible. "I don't know who the Hell you've been talking to or what you've been reading on the men's room wall but I don't just put anyone's pork in my mouth. Good day, sir!" After sitting quietly in the total darkness for a few seconds, Dust pipes up again, dropping his faux annoyance. "Actually, I wouldn't mind trying it."

"It's not a chubber!" Dustyn gasps, whispering at the loudest possible volume for it to still qualify as one. He laughs along with Erich's bewilderment of his terminology. "We never talk in real terms here. Learning what a wanger is? That's the least of your concerns. Try asking an Irishman for directions. It's all feckin' riddles and limericks. To get to the Tesco you've got to twirl round the Bush of Kildare three times then head past Jinty McGinty's joke shop. Take a left and cross the pixie's palm with silver. If you're successful, she'll let you proceed. Head over the hill, keeping the crooked Church of St. Bartholomew's to your right. If you go past the leprechaun's wishing well, you've gone too far." For whatever reason, Dustyn sounds more Irish than ever when mimicking a local. It goes to show that his regular voice and cadence is actually toned down for the benefit of Erich and his husband. "A grip that what? Oh, she didn't yank off yer wanger and feed it to the dogs that guard that cursed rock of Fibber McGee, did she?" Dustyn continues leaning into the exaggerated folklore and thick accent.

He giggles at Erich's assessment of Patrick. He's well aware his family are one huge stereotype. Dustyn only has a slightly fancier name because it was in honour of a family friend who died at the time sans the 'y' in place of an 'i'. Otherwise Erich would be staying over with Kian Blue-Conners, not Dustyn. "Nah, Paddy's brunette. He's..." Dustyn pauses and shuffles slightly, arching his back a little. He lets out a long and deafening fart right next to Erich. Lasting a good 7 or 8 seconds, Dustyn then resumes normal service. "He's the nicest and the closest in age to me. Just remember, it's Patrick or Paddy, not Patty. Yuck." Dustyn still hasn't batted an eyelid, not mentioning or apologising for the ungodly noise and vibrations he just created.