It was the stupidest thing that set Vegas off at the bar. Some rando making a snide comment loud enough for him to hear about the décor. Obviously, Vegas threw the guy out. He almost threw hands. At least he had the presence of mind to realize sticking around in that mood would be bad for business. It wasn’t a terribly busy night so the two people he left to mind the bar should be able to handle it. Though he graciously left instructions for them to call him if anything came up.

The walk home did nothing for his mood. Instead, he just fixated, replaying it all in his head as if to keep himself irritated. He didn’t do it consciously, it’s just something he’s always remembered doing. Not that he self-reflects that much. Especially when he’s already moody.

He’s outwardly scowling be the time he gets to the hotel. His mood is obvious in the force he uses to swing open the door to the room he and Pete share. It’s not slammed, per se, but it’s violent enough to attract attention. And for a minute, when Vegas saw Pete there, he was surprised. But why shouldn’t Pete be there? He lives there, too. Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t really consciously thought about where he was going and his feet automatically brought him here

The surprise was short-lived. As soon as he realized he was home, Vegas shrugged off his coat and pounced, regardless of what Pete's doing.