[ The muddled expression keeps as he regards the cup, again obliging by accepting it, rather than forcing Yuna to hold it out for any longer. Working around his grip on the bag, he tugs out the splash stick. ]
Good. We might have needed to have words. Coffee would stunt your growth.
[ A mild comment before he tips back the cup, and vague enough that she might not realize he refers not to her, but to the man working the counter at the bakery. While he's fairly sure that the inexplicably surviving old wive's tale regarding coffee isn't true, the mental image of Yuna on caffeine is one that proves too formidable for him.
As for the coffee: his eye twitches, but he swallows it. Too sweet. He would. Gaelio looks between the bag and cup in his hands, and the girl's earnest, eager expression. ]
[She doesn't realize at all, as a matter of fact, that she has two dads now and that that scolding was intended for one of them instead of for her, so that usual smile stays, a little brighter as he thanks her, not dimming at all at what he says next.]
Oh—Sorry, should I get you hot chocolate next time, too?
[Said sincerely as ever, eager to just get his drink right as much as anything.]
You don't have to worry about the credits or anything, if that's it, since I've been doing lots of volunteer work when I'm not in school and the man at the bakery is really nice and always gives me a discount!
[ A convenient misinterpretation. Gaelio has no incentive to correct her, not only because it would chance opening the subject of the bakery's employee, so he says nothing in response. Even to add I'm not as to worried would be an opening, as he can see well enough it would be a blatant contradiction to what he'd just said.
Only, there is an impulse to say as much, kneejerk. Swallowing it with another sip of coffee draws his attention to it, to the obnoxious fact that an intention to speak with that man on her behalf would suggest worry, and so, to the arguable fact that he might have worried about her.
Over as insignificant a thing as coffee.
Dismissing it over concern for his own capacity in possibly having to deal with her over-caffeinated doesn't quite do it. ]
Coffee's fine, [ though this cup too sweet, ] but don't let there be a next time.
You should be saving your credits for more important things.
[ But it sounds like an afterthought, because it is. That man would give a cute kid a discount. Gaelio expects he would even if not favoring the whole coven. Funny, bizarre even, that it resurfaces: the urge to roll his eyes. Which, in turn, makes him realize he hasn't done it in two years. It fuzzes through his head, that old peripheral fraying, centered with fissure.
Gaelio does not break the streak. He doesn't roll his eyes now. ]
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no subject
Good. We might have needed to have words. Coffee would stunt your growth.
[ A mild comment before he tips back the cup, and vague enough that she might not realize he refers not to her, but to the man working the counter at the bakery. While he's fairly sure that the inexplicably surviving old wive's tale regarding coffee isn't true, the mental image of Yuna on caffeine is one that proves too formidable for him.
As for the coffee: his eye twitches, but he swallows it. Too sweet. He would. Gaelio looks between the bag and cup in his hands, and the girl's earnest, eager expression. ]
Thanks.
[ ...but... ]
Don't do it again.
no subject
[She doesn't realize at all, as a matter of fact, that she has two dads now and that that scolding was intended for one of them instead of for her, so that usual smile stays, a little brighter as he thanks her, not dimming at all at what he says next.]
Oh—Sorry, should I get you hot chocolate next time, too?
[Said sincerely as ever, eager to just get his drink right as much as anything.]
You don't have to worry about the credits or anything, if that's it, since I've been doing lots of volunteer work when I'm not in school and the man at the bakery is really nice and always gives me a discount!
no subject
Only, there is an impulse to say as much, kneejerk. Swallowing it with another sip of coffee draws his attention to it, to the obnoxious fact that an intention to speak with that man on her behalf would suggest worry, and so, to the arguable fact that he might have worried about her.
Over as insignificant a thing as coffee.
Dismissing it over concern for his own capacity in possibly having to deal with her over-caffeinated doesn't quite do it. ]
Coffee's fine, [ though this cup too sweet, ] but don't let there be a next time.
You should be saving your credits for more important things.
[ But it sounds like an afterthought, because it is. That man would give a cute kid a discount. Gaelio expects he would even if not favoring the whole coven. Funny, bizarre even, that it resurfaces: the urge to roll his eyes. Which, in turn, makes him realize he hasn't done it in two years. It fuzzes through his head, that old peripheral fraying, centered with fissure.
Gaelio does not break the streak. He doesn't roll his eyes now. ]
Don't think of me.
[ This might get redundant. ]