[The question might as well have been asked in a foreign language. Stiles stares, brain trying to process words that donβt translate easily into an obvious acceptance or rejection. If not for the thumbs kneading his palms, he would have retreated awkwardly. Instead, the teen goes still. His internal confusion doesnβt color his expression.]
Iβm fine.
[A tireless lie that heβs uttered so often that heβs actually convinced by his own bullshit. With a wry brow cocked at Cy, he bumps their hands one last timeβtrying to indicate no hard feelingsβand then finally pulls away. His spades suit, concealed beneath his hood and tucked away behind his ear, is something so out of sight, out of mind, that he doesnβt immediately make the connection.
Before he can try to steer the conversation away from potentially dangerous groundsβnamely, his health, apparentlyβthe server arrives to check on them. The unfinished dish is given a warning look. Stiles offers her his wrist, the one with the Watch, in order to pay for the meal as he told Cyram he would. After she leaves, he takes a moment to collect the bag at his feet, clearly intending to leave.]
You better keep eating, dude. [He grins, eyes cutting toward the owner at the bar.] She doesnβt take kindly to people who donβt finish.
[Stiles is about to continue, traitorous tongue ready to supply another flirtatious comment on the heels of that thought, but he reins himself in. Cyram didn't respond to the previous one the way he expected, and he doesn't want to push.]
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Date: 2024-01-27 06:08 pm (UTC)Iβm fine.
[A tireless lie that heβs uttered so often that heβs actually convinced by his own bullshit. With a wry brow cocked at Cy, he bumps their hands one last timeβtrying to indicate no hard feelingsβand then finally pulls away. His spades suit, concealed beneath his hood and tucked away behind his ear, is something so out of sight, out of mind, that he doesnβt immediately make the connection.
Before he can try to steer the conversation away from potentially dangerous groundsβnamely, his health, apparentlyβthe server arrives to check on them. The unfinished dish is given a warning look. Stiles offers her his wrist, the one with the Watch, in order to pay for the meal as he told Cyram he would. After she leaves, he takes a moment to collect the bag at his feet, clearly intending to leave.]
You better keep eating, dude. [He grins, eyes cutting toward the owner at the bar.] She doesnβt take kindly to people who donβt finish.
[Stiles is about to continue, traitorous tongue ready to supply another flirtatious comment on the heels of that thought, but he reins himself in. Cyram didn't respond to the previous one the way he expected, and he doesn't want to push.]