Just as he’s about to flap his jaw a few more times, but the ‘it’s fine’ stops him in his tracks. As she continues to speak, all he can manage to say in reply is a quiet ‘oh. Okay.’ She intimidating. He knows she doesn’t always mean to be, but she’s intimidating. As her feet touch down on the hardwood flooring, he chews his lip a moment, unsure of what to do at her prompt other than turn around and look the other way.
For added ‘security’ he clamps a hand over his eyes.
❛ Question — ❜
❛ …Is… that, uh – is that a ‘yes’ to the whole ‘getting you food’ thing, then? ❜
It may or may not be a stupid question, but the dumbest question is the one that goes unasked.
narrowed eyes sharpen further, right at the back of his head. people tend to feel it when she’s glaring daggers through them, even if they don’t really see her do it. “ oh god, “ unintentionally, it comes out disgusted, “ do you think it’s, like … “ flicking free the button of her jeans & tugging them down, she snags another (dirty) pair. “ a date ?! “
tugging up the zipper & throwing off her shirt, she snags another. but her eyes catch a spill on it, probably whiskey or tequila. with a frustrated scoff, she tosses the article of clothing to the ground & picks another one up off the floor. “ we’re just getting food. “ she says, repelling any notion of dating. or emotions. “ that’s it. “