[ He gives her the look of a man who is, you know, pushing 40 and woke up in a fucking future city with his hair cut off and is working through every second of it by, right now, asking a girl to hit him, so. Sure. He's not talkative. Manages to snort out a sound that's kind of harsh and a shade of mean, even though he says, dryly, ]
I'm great at parties.
[ And then he gets punched, sort of.
He angles out of the path of it, barely. It clips him a little at his shoulder. Pivots around her, not so much light on his feet like he's gearing up for trading blows, but following rustier instincts. ]
Who taught you?
[ How to throw a punch, he means. Question for a question. All's fair. ]
no subject
I'm great at parties.
[ And then he gets punched, sort of.
He angles out of the path of it, barely. It clips him a little at his shoulder. Pivots around her, not so much light on his feet like he's gearing up for trading blows, but following rustier instincts. ]
Who taught you?
[ How to throw a punch, he means. Question for a question. All's fair. ]