[ While he returns the bowl, he mulls over what the man said. “That was a mistake.” See, he can’t help but reflect on the fact that most people would have corrected the misunderstanding without further pointing it out. Hei apparently has no such qualms; it seems like a significant example of the personality Stiles is dealing with here. Upon returning to the end of the line, he unthinkingly heeds the hand and stops short of where he intended. Though it becomes obvious that Hei isn’t accustomed to seeing creatures like the Monster, Stiles has to grumpily admit that the young man is handling the culture shock relatively well. ]
I guess the meat’s just another decision I’ll have to make, [ comes the sarcastic response, paired with an eye roll. ] For you? Let’s say mystery meat.
[ As tempting as it would be to order a mince pie with mystery meat for this guy, who rubs Stiles wrong in every direction, he’s not actually annoyed enough to do so. Yet. Beef is the kinder option. ]
It isn't. You can leave me to make the choice for myself; just foot the bill.
(look, he hasn't spoken to a human being who doesn't want to see his head mounted on their wall in weeks. so if his manners are poor, then there's a reason for it.
hei steps up when the witchy woman in front of them busies herself with her order, eavesdropping on the toppings she's smooth-talking out of the stall owner who seems rather smitten with his regular customer. clever girl. two helpings of mince pie sound better than one, but he lacks the feminine wiles—instead, his arm opens to invite stiles to deal with him and watches them be served like a hawk.)
[ The balls on this guy… Mouth pressed in a flat, unimpressed line, Stiles glances askance at Hei. ]
Okay, let me make sure I’m getting this right. You refuse to explain how your divination magic works and basically tell me to take it or leave it, then turn around and make demands about what food I buy you with my own money while expecting me to tell you what kind of Monster I am.
[ Chewing a wad of tobacco slowly like a cow with cud, the stall owner watches them in curious silence. His previous customer, the smooth-talking woman, is also doing a poor job at hiding the fact that she’s listening in. Stiles ignores them. ]
(side-eyes stiles as he sums up the past few minutes, but most of what he hears is a muted droning. distantly, hei wonders what language he's speaking. he seems american, of course that's a default assumption he tends to make; he could be european.
not much to go on.
he's turned sometime during stiles' final words, but his response is incredibly delayed. this makes his gaze linger, silence pervasive in a line that's begun muttering at the hold up, more than a few seconds before it drops and angles away.)
Yeah, you got it... is there some kind of problem here, or should I order?
[ The pregnant pause that follows his summary – with Hei staring at him like an absolute creep – has Stiles reaching an abrupt, final conclusion. Something is off about this guy; do not interact. For once in his life, common sense wins over curiosity. He wordlessly turns away from the young man to address the food stall owner, ordering a mince pie with beef. After paying for the pie, he gestures for Hei to approach the stall counter and wait for it to be prepared. ]
Enjoy.
[ The word is uttered with flat disinterest, his only farewell as Stiles exits the line and begins walking in the direction opposite of the fortune teller booth. Talking to Hei has left him feeling crabby and unsettled. The less time spent in the other man’s presence, the better. He should be sleeping at this hour anyway. And so, Stiles determines to do just as Hei suggested: forget they met. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
I guess the meat’s just another decision I’ll have to make, [ comes the sarcastic response, paired with an eye roll. ] For you? Let’s say mystery meat.
[ As tempting as it would be to order a mince pie with mystery meat for this guy, who rubs Stiles wrong in every direction, he’s not actually annoyed enough to do so. Yet. Beef is the kinder option. ]
no subject
(look, he hasn't spoken to a human being who doesn't want to see his head mounted on their wall in weeks. so if his manners are poor, then there's a reason for it.
hei steps up when the witchy woman in front of them busies herself with her order, eavesdropping on the toppings she's smooth-talking out of the stall owner who seems rather smitten with his regular customer. clever girl. two helpings of mince pie sound better than one, but he lacks the feminine wiles—instead, his arm opens to invite stiles to deal with him and watches them be served like a hawk.)
What sort of creature will you be, then?
no subject
Okay, let me make sure I’m getting this right. You refuse to explain how your divination magic works and basically tell me to take it or leave it, then turn around and make demands about what food I buy you with my own money while expecting me to tell you what kind of Monster I am.
[ Chewing a wad of tobacco slowly like a cow with cud, the stall owner watches them in curious silence. His previous customer, the smooth-talking woman, is also doing a poor job at hiding the fact that she’s listening in. Stiles ignores them. ]
no subject
not much to go on.
he's turned sometime during stiles' final words, but his response is incredibly delayed. this makes his gaze linger, silence pervasive in a line that's begun muttering at the hold up, more than a few seconds before it drops and angles away.)
Yeah, you got it... is there some kind of problem here, or should I order?
no subject
Enjoy.
[ The word is uttered with flat disinterest, his only farewell as Stiles exits the line and begins walking in the direction opposite of the fortune teller booth. Talking to Hei has left him feeling crabby and unsettled. The less time spent in the other man’s presence, the better. He should be sleeping at this hour anyway. And so, Stiles determines to do just as Hei suggested: forget they met. ]