[ stiles recognizes her immediately, of course. maybe she'd forgotten about him, but he's been thinking about her. lately business has been booming, because his passion is in hot demand, and the need that's swamped him, the flirtation that draws men and women to him, it's all about her. he dreams of strawberry-blonde hair and condescending pouts. but none of that shows on his face, beyond the fact that his eyes go a little hot for her. ]
I can get that.
[ stiles goes to a knee. for a moment she might think he's going to pick up the other dropped strawberry, but no: he's got napkins. he places a hand firmly on her ankle and swipes them across the sole of her shoe to clean it before getting back to his feet again, coltishly graceful. ]
Sorry.
[ it's much more genuine than her little brush off was. he doesn't have any food of his own, and his hand cups under her plate just in time to catch the third falling strawberry — which he pops in his mouth with a smirk. ]
no subject
I can get that.
[ stiles goes to a knee. for a moment she might think he's going to pick up the other dropped strawberry, but no: he's got napkins. he places a hand firmly on her ankle and swipes them across the sole of her shoe to clean it before getting back to his feet again, coltishly graceful. ]
Sorry.
[ it's much more genuine than her little brush off was. he doesn't have any food of his own, and his hand cups under her plate just in time to catch the third falling strawberry — which he pops in his mouth with a smirk. ]
How've you been?