[ Sabrina thanks Michael for coming up with him, and he just laughs, softly dipping his head. He still seems sort of shy - he's actually never had lunch with a friend before, if you can call cherry pies and chocolate milkshakes shared with a girl he tried to fuuucking murder "lunch with a friend" - so he's a bit overwhelmed, not sure where to look. Happy. Agitated, still. Angry, in a directionless, vicious sort of way. Still very happy, however contradictory that might be. ]
Psshhh. You're way too young and pretty to ask a question like that. That's the kind of thing creepy old men say at bars to women waaay out of their league.
[ He flashes a smile, all bright white teeth, an affectionate shine in bright, blue eyes. Michael scratches the back of his neck, looks at Sabrina through the curtain of blond curls, then shifts in his seat and rests his fingers on the edge of the table. Kinda fidgety. He's not sure if he's excited about hanging out with someone he likes, or if he's just thrilled by the anticipation of a fight. He doesn't know if there's tension in the air or just - eagerness to be friends. ]
But, um - yeah, I guess. The lady who works here is really nice to me, and she reminds me of my mom. I don't really like the food, but I like her? So.
[ Does that make sense, or does that just make him sound pathetic? Michael laughs, kind of self-deprecating, like he realizes he must sound pretty fucking dorky. He shakes his head, hanging his neck down, idly watching the waitress put their orders in from the corner of his eye. Giddy - that's the word. That's how Michael's feeling. ]
Oh - and - [ Michael lifts his head, eyes wide, then starts fussing with his pocket, trying to grab his wallet as quickly as he can. ] I'll totally pay for whatever you want to eat? Or drink. Or anything else. I feel bad for making you come all this way, so.
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Psshhh. You're way too young and pretty to ask a question like that. That's the kind of thing creepy old men say at bars to women waaay out of their league.
[ He flashes a smile, all bright white teeth, an affectionate shine in bright, blue eyes. Michael scratches the back of his neck, looks at Sabrina through the curtain of blond curls, then shifts in his seat and rests his fingers on the edge of the table. Kinda fidgety. He's not sure if he's excited about hanging out with someone he likes, or if he's just thrilled by the anticipation of a fight. He doesn't know if there's tension in the air or just - eagerness to be friends. ]
But, um - yeah, I guess. The lady who works here is really nice to me, and she reminds me of my mom. I don't really like the food, but I like her? So.
[ Does that make sense, or does that just make him sound pathetic? Michael laughs, kind of self-deprecating, like he realizes he must sound pretty fucking dorky. He shakes his head, hanging his neck down, idly watching the waitress put their orders in from the corner of his eye. Giddy - that's the word. That's how Michael's feeling. ]
Oh - and - [ Michael lifts his head, eyes wide, then starts fussing with his pocket, trying to grab his wallet as quickly as he can. ] I'll totally pay for whatever you want to eat? Or drink. Or anything else. I feel bad for making you come all this way, so.