[ James narrows his eyes, just a fraction. he isn't actively suspicious of everyone he comes across, but neither is he the most compassion of boys— and it just happens that this man stopped directly in his path. a quick once over tells him what he needs to know, that this fellow is disabled in some way, and he paces to the left to lean in front of him just slightly.

and then he waves a hand in front of his face.

far enough away, mind, that the breeze of his hand wouldn't sweep passed his nose, but it certainly isn't polite. then he straightens, and his hands find his hips. he's English, at least, which is something. ]

It isn't easy, one would think nobody here had a civilized bone in their bodies the way they crowd about for this awful stuff.

[ the man can't see him, but James gestures widely to the coffee shop regardless. it's mostly for himself. ]

Lucky for you I'm searching for one myself.