[....Oh.. What a pretty lady. Even if she kind of looks like she's going to a costume party. Kind of taking a somewhat fumbling step back though, damn these stupid large clothes, and eying her warily. Pretty ladies never talk to him. >| ]
[He falters, looking unsure for a moment, before-- quickly shaking his head. Clearly lying is the way to go - if she knows his name, then she's probably a social worker or something, right?
Never trust pretty ladies.]
M'not Allen. Why don'thca go find someone else to harass?
[ALAS bitty does not much care if he hurts someone's feeling. :c ]
Then why're you still talkin to me? I ain't some brat that can't take care've himself... [Rearranging his over sized clothes a bit, as if to attest to this fact.]
I thought it would be nice to talk. [Clearly she was mistaken, and you are a brat, but she's not giving up! Glances over to the clothes he's rearranging.]
[He looks.... very, very briefly panicked by the suggestion, and takes a quick step back, before he shakes his head and goes right back to being a snappy brat.]
[ADVANCED ESCAPE MANEUVERS ARE A GO. which means he is crawling under the nearest table (or trying to) and kind of leaving those over sized shoes behind. Hell no, he isn't being taken in by some dumb social worker lady now. >| ]
Ah, wait! [Damn it bro. Getting up so that she can get closer and crouch by the table. She's not leaving him alone until she's sure he's going to be all right by himself or with someone he trusts.
Grabs the end of the tablecloth, pausing before pulling it up to peek under.]
[And... he's seated under there, apparently having abandoned the over sized pants as well, since the shirt goes down to about his knees anyway. And. Staring. DAMN IT WOMEN WITH DRESSES AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE UNDER TABLES WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING LADY--]
The hell's wrong with you?! [And like the true brat he is he reaches over to pull that table cloth waaaaay back down before... scurrying out from under the table on the other side.]
[SHE'S JUST CHECKING ON HIM and this is exactly what she was saying about those over-sized clothes.][Aaand there he goes. Scooting back and standing up again, trying to see over the table and where he's going.]
Ah--hello?
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It's all right--[--oh, that scar she recognizes. A short pause.] Allen, right?
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Never trust pretty ladies.]
M'not Allen. Why don'thca go find someone else to harass?
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Do you think I'm harassing you? I was just saying hi.
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Then why're you still talkin to me? I ain't some brat that can't take care've himself... [Rearranging his over sized clothes a bit, as if to attest to this fact.]
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... Would you like to go get something that fits?
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I don't want a thing from you, so go away!
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But--wouldn't it be better if your clothes weren't so big?
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[ADVANCED ESCAPE MANEUVERS ARE A GO. which means he is crawling under the nearest table (or trying to) and kind of leaving those over sized shoes behind. Hell no, he isn't being taken in by some dumb social worker lady now. >| ]
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Grabs the end of the tablecloth, pausing before pulling it up to peek under.]
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The hell's wrong with you?! [And like the true brat he is he reaches over to pull that table cloth waaaaay back down before... scurrying out from under the table on the other side.]
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