[Stares up at Mean for a very, very long moment, with very blue eyes compared to the usual gold.
And then huffs, looking away and rubbing at his bad eye with a dirty-looking sleeve.]
American's don't drink stupid tea, arse'ole. [Because he clearly sounds so American can't you tell stop being silly it isn't like he's an illegal immigrant or anything.]
[Raises an eyebrow at the kidlet. Mean hadn't retained his memories when he was deaged, and he figures that's the case here. And it seems all Allens ever were horrid brats as children.]
Then you're not a very good American, [and this is in a fairly decent American accent;] asshole.
[Just. Staring at Mean. It is quite possibly the most loathsome sort of look ever seen on an eight-year-old's face.]
Shut up. [Muttered;] Can say it just fine if I try.
[But he glances down at his... shirt - it's about at his knees, maybe a little higher - and shrugs, as if he hadn't thought of it before.] It's cleaner than the other stuff I had.
[Alas, the look remains on his face - at least until Mean mentions food, and his eyes widen a little, along with a perfectly timed (and relatively loud) growl from his stomach. He does start walking at first, but stops quickly, clenching his fists at his sides. He's fallen for that one before...]
[He hadn't expected him to comply so easily, anyway. He shakes his head, his own expression remaining consistently neutral.]
I'm not from a hospital. If you don't want to come with me, then I can bring the food and clothes here if you'll stay put. Otherwise, you're gonna have to find them on your own, and you'll end up getting lost and wander someplace dangerous.
[He considers this for a moment, before glancing around. This place as.... safer. He was in a crowd, if the guy tried something he could scream his little head off and someone would come see what was wrong, wouldn't they? some idiot always did. So he plops himself down on the ground, right where he is.]
...just want food. [Another rather loud growl, and he kind of. Flinches a little, and rubs at his eye again. There is, for some reason, cake on his sleeve, though he clearly hasn't eaten.]
Alright. Don't eat anything in here, it'll do weird things to you. [And with that, he's off! Quickly going to gather a little bag of food from the nearest kitchen: two ham sandwiches, an apple, a juice box, potato chips, and a box of dango (how much normal kids eat, he can only give his best guess.) And he also gathers some kid-sized clothes, because you look silly wearing that.
He'll be back maybe fifteen minutes later with all this, checking to see if the kid's still there.]
[He's still sitting there, rubbing at his eye more and looking around the place, at the huge crowd of people - he almost looks a little nervous until he spots Mean again, and his eyes narrow, expecting someone to be following behind him - but there's no one that he can see, and his eyes dart to the bag of food. Cue instant drooling, though even at this age he doesn't want to seem entirely desperate, so he stays seated right where he is and just. Waits.]
[Crouches down near him and plops the bag of food in front of him, then lays the clothes next to it. Then he straightens up and stands off to the side to give Hobo space, looking off in another direction like he's paying attention to something else.]
[The minute Mean looks away the kid is kind of tugging the bag apart, pausing for a moment to marvel at the load of food before him before he snags up a sandwich and starts taking bites big enough to choke a kid out of it.
Though he does stop when he realizes there's something actually warm to eat in the bag, and sets the sandwich down, starting in on the dango instead and.... amg *u* This is pretty damn glorious.]
[They are the best thing ever, he knows. And don't mind him, he's just glancing over the teas and watching the poor suckers who actually drank some. Just waiting for Hobo to finish eating.]
Hey. You. [There is one dango left in the box, and he points at it, before taking a bit out of that sandwich. With his mouth full;] What's this thing supposed to be?
...You drank the tea.
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And then huffs, looking away and rubbing at his bad eye with a dirty-looking sleeve.]
American's don't drink stupid tea, arse'ole. [Because he clearly sounds so American can't you tell stop being silly it isn't like he's an illegal immigrant or anything.]
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Then you're not a very good American, [and this is in a fairly decent American accent;] asshole.
You're going to need new clothes.
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Shut up. [Muttered;] Can say it just fine if I try.
[But he glances down at his... shirt - it's about at his knees, maybe a little higher - and shrugs, as if he hadn't thought of it before.] It's cleaner than the other stuff I had.
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We can get you clean clothes that're the proper size. And food, if you're hungry. [Makes a gesture for him to start walking.] Do you wanna come?
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...You're from one of the hospitals, aren't you?
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I'm not from a hospital. If you don't want to come with me, then I can bring the food and clothes here if you'll stay put. Otherwise, you're gonna have to find them on your own, and you'll end up getting lost and wander someplace dangerous.
Your choice.
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...just want food. [Another rather loud growl, and he kind of. Flinches a little, and rubs at his eye again. There is, for some reason, cake on his sleeve, though he clearly hasn't eaten.]
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He'll be back maybe fifteen minutes later with all this, checking to see if the kid's still there.]
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[Crouches down near him and plops the bag of food in front of him, then lays the clothes next to it. Then he straightens up and stands off to the side to give Hobo space, looking off in another direction like he's paying attention to something else.]
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Though he does stop when he realizes there's something actually warm to eat in the bag, and sets the sandwich down, starting in on the dango instead and.... amg *u* This is pretty damn glorious.]
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