[ mid-way through his approach to the table is when jesse takes more resolute notice of him. one eye somewhat wider than the other, his eyebrow lifting. all and all, an incredibly pointed and leery look. he's not only bent at the shoulders, practically at the waist too, with arms propped on his legs facing outward. the slouch of youth, of someone who might throw on the same clothes from the previous night, if only because it's easier.
in that short period, his gaze has traveled — darted — away from him and back again. that edge of paranoia to him surely won't go missed. half of him is trying to distinguish the real from the not-real, and the other is making a desperate attempt to pick out who looks familiar (if anyone). at least the station, over all, doesn't look entirely like something out of a bad dream, inspired by a combination of stupid movies and memories he's unable to shed himself of.
when he does sit, jesse swallows visibly, and by now, he has his full attention, though the nervous air to him only seems to intensify. it disperses into obvious, impatient annoyance, even before the question is entirely asked. don't think he hasn't picked up on that hinting tone. he gives the wall opposite an agitated, harsh stare, and thumbs the side of his phone after closing it. ]
Uh, yeah. Thanks. [ mobile pinched between the knuckle of his first digit and thumb, he holds it up to gesture with it. this dry response is coated with doubt, and for a bit, he nearly doesn't say anything more. drabwurld. he's glued himself to it, staring at the edge of the table before him, eyes widening steadily in spite of himself. sherlock receives another pointed gaze, but jesse still doesn't look positive of anything. of himself, or the stranger in front of him.
finally, he does angle himself to face him now, leaning toward the table. ] Yo. Um. You said, 'Drabwurld.' Where is that, exactly? I mean, like, what continent?
[ he'll eventually come back to the likes of us. ]
(not at all! it was lovely, i've been beaming over working out a response for you. i'm embarrassed to say, i'm super, super new with jesse, too! gah. so, please, if you can, excuse the clunk and clumsy of it. eee! i'm excited to thread with you, hehe.)
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in that short period, his gaze has traveled — darted — away from him and back again. that edge of paranoia to him surely won't go missed. half of him is trying to distinguish the real from the not-real, and the other is making a desperate attempt to pick out who looks familiar (if anyone). at least the station, over all, doesn't look entirely like something out of a bad dream, inspired by a combination of stupid movies and memories he's unable to shed himself of.
when he does sit, jesse swallows visibly, and by now, he has his full attention, though the nervous air to him only seems to intensify. it disperses into obvious, impatient annoyance, even before the question is entirely asked. don't think he hasn't picked up on that hinting tone. he gives the wall opposite an agitated, harsh stare, and thumbs the side of his phone after closing it. ]
Uh, yeah. Thanks. [ mobile pinched between the knuckle of his first digit and thumb, he holds it up to gesture with it. this dry response is coated with doubt, and for a bit, he nearly doesn't say anything more. drabwurld. he's glued himself to it, staring at the edge of the table before him, eyes widening steadily in spite of himself. sherlock receives another pointed gaze, but jesse still doesn't look positive of anything. of himself, or the stranger in front of him.
finally, he does angle himself to face him now, leaning toward the table. ] Yo. Um. You said, 'Drabwurld.' Where is that, exactly? I mean, like, what continent?
[ he'll eventually come back to the likes of us. ]
(not at all! it was lovely, i've been beaming over working out a response for you. i'm embarrassed to say, i'm super, super new with jesse, too! gah. so, please, if you can, excuse the clunk and clumsy of it. eee! i'm excited to thread with you, hehe.)