[Shutting up is an impossible demand, but Charlie acquiesces to releasing Fuuta's sweat-damp hoodie. His hand falls to his side; a more keen minded observer would spot disappointment in the way his fingers brush one another on their descent. What Fuuta can clearly see is the way Charlie's head tilts, tongue tucked into his upper lip.
His brows are raised - he isn't buying this guy's assertion of recovery.
Typically, Charlie's happy to go along with the bullshit someone spouts even if he knows it's a lie. Anything to keep the conversation going, to keep the other person talking. But the idea of a snack still fogs the edges of his thoughts, and he's cautious with his food. He doesn't want to end up like the boy: mussed and cum-splattered on a public couch.]
You sure about that? What are you gonna do if you get out that door and get all eh, excited again? [Turn right around and plop back on the seat? A funny scene - Charlie chuckles at his own imagination.] You've already got my help, why not use it? I'll even let you keep tellin' me what to do. [A proposition. An offer. Will he adopt Fuuta's favorite transactional mantra and insist the boy owes him after?
no subject
His brows are raised - he isn't buying this guy's assertion of recovery.
Typically, Charlie's happy to go along with the bullshit someone spouts even if he knows it's a lie. Anything to keep the conversation going, to keep the other person talking. But the idea of a snack still fogs the edges of his thoughts, and he's cautious with his food. He doesn't want to end up like the boy: mussed and cum-splattered on a public couch.]
You sure about that? What are you gonna do if you get out that door and get all eh, excited again? [Turn right around and plop back on the seat? A funny scene - Charlie chuckles at his own imagination.] You've already got my help, why not use it? I'll even let you keep tellin' me what to do. [A proposition. An offer. Will he adopt Fuuta's favorite transactional mantra and insist the boy owes him after?
Maybe.]