(only when stiles looks away does he follow suit, glancing down at the tin where his cunes lie. there's only so much money for food and water, and the cost of things around them makes it all seem like loose change. but why fuel himself anymore than he needs to? why sustain a body he should've let die years ago?

there's a noncommittal grunt at stiles' prompts; hei rises in his seat instead of voicing his concerns. better to go with him, he decides, a man who appreciates watching his food be made, grabbing the can between them to pocket what's inside.)

Fine, then. I won't say no. (a 'shff' as the velvet curtain is tugged closed. he'll emerge from the booth and appear beside the teenager's chair, which makes it far easier to spot the straps hugging his waist and thighs.) Why stay, when there are more convenient places to sit? I find it hard to believe it's because you're tired from the day.