I'm not left out. [ As a youth ever-conscious of how he's being received, of course Fuuta bristles at that observation, even if he's just as quick to walk it back. ] -- not that I'd care if I was? What other people wanna do is their business, and I'm not going along with anything just because it's what everyone else is doing? Like that matters to me. [ Too bad those blustering words are followed by a forceful exhale. Somebody doth protest too much. ] So I don't need any of your pity.

[ He caps off that statement by grabbing for the refill of his cocktail and going to take a swig of it -- only to pause after a sip, pulling the glass away from his mouth. Fuuta's expression tinges with some combination of surprise and confusion as he distractedly licks his lips. ... they feel tingly, for some reason. And a little hot? Did they make this drink stronger? The first one didn't taste this spicy, he thinks.

Charlie might notice it before Fuuta himself, the way his face is starting to flush a little redder, sweat starting to bead thinly at his temple. And though Fuuta tries to distract himself by putting down the glass and going for a bite of the food instead, that earns a similar confused double-take in reaction. ... why does his mouth feel so weird. Like everything feels a little too intense against his lips and tongue; he ends up chewing at his lip for a moment, eyes narrowed, before glaring back up at Charlie. ]

... 'sides, if you're gonna be asking someone something, shouldn't you talk about yourself, first? You gonna spill about all your weird hobbies in public?

[ Ugh, actually, he regrets saying that the moment the words leave his mouth. He'd just said the first thing that came to mind, wanting to put Charlie on the back foot, but something tells him the guy's not going to be fazed by the demand at all. ]