[She finds herself a seat on one of the barstools, hooking her heels on one of the bottom rungs and pouring her tea into her glass. When she sets the can aside, however, she wiggles her fingers at him in a playful wave before reaching to take her drink instead.]
You're more comfortable when you have something to do with your hands. When you don't, you look for something to do with them.
[She shrugs a little. It's hardly a secret that she's observant, even deductive. She's spent practically half her life drawing conclusions from the things that she sees, from watching people to note how they act.]
...Mine is that I don't like not knowing what to do, in any given situation. Being at a loss for words, or...for anything else, really. So here we are in my kitchen, having something to drink, because I know how to do that. And it's less awkward than just staring at you, which I'd be fine with doing, except for the part about it being awkward.
[All of a sudden he's more self-conscious of his hands, and what does he do as a result? Immediately flexes them, as if proving her point. He then grasps his soda, making sure that one at least stays poignantly still around it.]
Remind me to never play poker against you.
[He has a feeling he'd go broke within the first hour.
Still, it appears he's not the only one who's nervous in this situation if her words are anything to go by. Cloud decides to pull out a barstool and take a seat directly next to her.]
A little. It's like I'm afraid of spooking you, a little.
[She tilts her head, watching him sideways with a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.]
I hope that doesn't sound patronizing. I'm just glad you came over, and I don't want you to leave. Or...feel like it would be better if you left. I meant it when I said I asked you to come because I wanted to see you. I don't care how late it is.
[That's not what he wants her to believe. Her presence wasn't something that he was apprehensive about, it was how he acted in front of her. He didn't want to make himself look like a fool, and he hopes against hope that he knew really what to say in these sort of situations. What kind of words were expected of these kind of meetings, instead of just... indulging himself in her company, even if it is in appreciative silence, as is his default.]
It's like I told you before, though, I'm just no good at this. But that's a me thing, not a you thing. Don't be nervous; everything you're doing is perfect.
[Making him feel welcome, just wanting to spend time with him. What else could he ask for?]
[She runs her finger down the outside of the tea can, collecting some of the condensation on it, then traces the rim of the glass in a smooth motion, until the glass starts to resonate with a soft pitch.
Now that's clearly a fun bar trick she'd picked up somewhere.]
Tell me about something you and Prompto did together, recently. Is he in school?
[Maybe he's right, and he's no good at making small talk in a moment like this. So maybe if the conversation shifts to something easier, it'll set him at ease, too.
And it's not like she's going to complain about getting to listen to the sound of his voice, no matter the topic.]
[He watches with idle interest as he takes her finger and runs it around the rim of the glass. A trick he's seen before, but always a fair distraction, even while he answers her question.]
Yeah. He's studying photography... and he's really good at it, too. Always snapping photos when he sees the opportunity. [The true eye of a photographer, seeing photo ops where most would only view the mundane.]
We went to a petting zoo together a while ago. I got to see a baby chocobo.
[And he doesn't seem to mind her leaning forward; it's strange, how he doesn't even seem to cognizantly notice it, really, because now he really is reflecting back on his visit to the petting zoo.]
They're about this big. [He gestures with his hands, about as wide as his lap.] Some are getting their feathers in, but they still have fluff. They're really soft, and I can see why Prompto's crazy about them.
He could try to pass it off as long-term borrowing, maybe.
[Yeah, Carmen, that'd be stealing, wouldn't it. Normal people don't steal things, do they.
Luckily, the fact that she's gotten Cloud to laugh goes a long way toward keeping her from dwelling on thoughts like that. He's a good distraction that way, it turns out.]
But maybe it's for the best. I'm not sure how well a baby bird would get along with all the cats and dogs he's told me about.
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[She finds herself a seat on one of the barstools, hooking her heels on one of the bottom rungs and pouring her tea into her glass. When she sets the can aside, however, she wiggles her fingers at him in a playful wave before reaching to take her drink instead.]
You're more comfortable when you have something to do with your hands. When you don't, you look for something to do with them.
[She shrugs a little. It's hardly a secret that she's observant, even deductive. She's spent practically half her life drawing conclusions from the things that she sees, from watching people to note how they act.]
...Mine is that I don't like not knowing what to do, in any given situation. Being at a loss for words, or...for anything else, really. So here we are in my kitchen, having something to drink, because I know how to do that. And it's less awkward than just staring at you, which I'd be fine with doing, except for the part about it being awkward.
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Remind me to never play poker against you.
[He has a feeling he'd go broke within the first hour.
Still, it appears he's not the only one who's nervous in this situation if her words are anything to go by. Cloud decides to pull out a barstool and take a seat directly next to her.]
Am I making you nervous?
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[She tilts her head, watching him sideways with a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.]
I hope that doesn't sound patronizing. I'm just glad you came over, and I don't want you to leave. Or...feel like it would be better if you left. I meant it when I said I asked you to come because I wanted to see you. I don't care how late it is.
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[That's not what he wants her to believe. Her presence wasn't something that he was apprehensive about, it was how he acted in front of her. He didn't want to make himself look like a fool, and he hopes against hope that he knew really what to say in these sort of situations. What kind of words were expected of these kind of meetings, instead of just... indulging himself in her company, even if it is in appreciative silence, as is his default.]
It's like I told you before, though, I'm just no good at this. But that's a me thing, not a you thing. Don't be nervous; everything you're doing is perfect.
[Making him feel welcome, just wanting to spend time with him. What else could he ask for?]
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[She runs her finger down the outside of the tea can, collecting some of the condensation on it, then traces the rim of the glass in a smooth motion, until the glass starts to resonate with a soft pitch.
Now that's clearly a fun bar trick she'd picked up somewhere.]
Tell me about something you and Prompto did together, recently. Is he in school?
[Maybe he's right, and he's no good at making small talk in a moment like this. So maybe if the conversation shifts to something easier, it'll set him at ease, too.
And it's not like she's going to complain about getting to listen to the sound of his voice, no matter the topic.]
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Yeah. He's studying photography... and he's really good at it, too. Always snapping photos when he sees the opportunity. [The true eye of a photographer, seeing photo ops where most would only view the mundane.]
We went to a petting zoo together a while ago. I got to see a baby chocobo.
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[She leans toward him a little, a subconscious reflection of her eagerness.]
Did you get to pet it?
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[And he doesn't seem to mind her leaning forward; it's strange, how he doesn't even seem to cognizantly notice it, really, because now he really is reflecting back on his visit to the petting zoo.]
They're about this big. [He gestures with his hands, about as wide as his lap.] Some are getting their feathers in, but they still have fluff. They're really soft, and I can see why Prompto's crazy about them.
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[As is the mental image of Cloud and Prompto, both halfway to resembling a chocobo themselves, petting and playing with them.]
Did he want to keep one? I bet he wanted to keep one. I know I would've.
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That'd be stealing. I think the petting zoo would probably frown on that, don't you think?
[Though the mental image of Prompto walking out with a baby chocobo tucked securely under his shirt is pretty... hilarious, to be honest.]
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[Yeah, Carmen, that'd be stealing, wouldn't it. Normal people don't steal things, do they.
Luckily, the fact that she's gotten Cloud to laugh goes a long way toward keeping her from dwelling on thoughts like that. He's a good distraction that way, it turns out.]
But maybe it's for the best. I'm not sure how well a baby bird would get along with all the cats and dogs he's told me about.
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[Prompto would honestly probably live with a chocobo in their apartment if no one talked him out of it.]
He'd make them get along. He'd find a way, believe me.