[ She sees the look of uncertainty on his face, and feels momentarily validated - see, Gansey, it really is a little disarming having people coming over in the middle of the night - but that brief moment of smugness is pushed aside by the feeling of warmth at his visible happiness. No matter who you are, no matter how self-confident you are, there's nothing that makes you feel better about life than knowing that you can make someone happy just by showing up. Friendship. She wishes she didn't get so bloody skittish over it. ]
Yeah, still on the job. And my boss assigned me the very important duty of disposing of leftover food. Know any place to throw these out?
[ She holds up the bag with a grin. And then she says - somehow speaking completely without the faintest air of flirtation, just as a matter-of-fact sort of statement: ]
Also, that's a really good look for you. You ought to dress like that more often - you look handsome.
[ Gansey's smile had widened at that first question. He's on his way to the kitchen to find a home for those bags - he actually loves it when Kitty brings leftovers - but then she takes him by surprise again, and he turns around with a startled expression. ]
What, in this? It's not exactly neat. [ Presentation is very important. He certainly looks less polished at present, though. Perhaps that's what Kitty likes. ] But thank you.
Those smell good, by the way. What are they? I can definitely find a home for them in here.
Yes, in that. When you're perfectly flawless and put together, girls are going to find you intimidating. And it makes you look old, too. A little bit rumpled looks nice, and it makes you look your age, too.
[ With that bit of completely unsolicited fashion advice delivered, she crosses her arms and grins down at that bag. ]
They're claiming to be pasties. A bit of a dubious claim, since I'm quite certain no good pasty has ever been made with rice or chicken or olives in them. But they're tasty, if not exactly traditional. I'm sure you know decent pasties, but you'll be able to fool your flatmates, yeah?
[ Polo shirts make him look old? This is news to Gansey. He's not sure what to do with it. ]
Well, who says I have girls in mind when I dress? Perhaps I'm not trying to be attractive.
[ Yes, that sounds contrary enough. ]
Are we talking about the Cornish kind or the Scottish kind? It's been years. [ He says that as if it's been several decades, when it's more like three summers. ] Either way, I like things with olives. So they need not complain, I'll tell them it's a twist on a classic.
[ He reaches for the back to put it away, and smiles at her. ]
So. Are you staying over, or is sleep avoiding you?
[ She allows his contrariness with an outstretched hand, a gesture of well all right. ]
Perhaps you're not. But you needn't attempt to dress to seem impressive or reputable. You've got good bearing. You come across as clever and respectable quite naturally. And I've seen the company you keep - I don't think your everyday goal is to have people approach you as someone deserving of deference, is it.
[ And then her hand drops, because - well. Maybe that's a little nosy and meddlesome. He didn't exactly invite all that, did he. ]
And the pasties were listed on the menu as being traditional Cornish. Which - rubbish; you'll be glad of that distance of years so you can forget what they're actually supposed to be. Anyway - I'm over because I've got something for you.
[ Gansey leans back during this critique, expression amused and hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. ]
No, it's not. I don't want deference from anyone. I hate that, actually. [ Because he's experienced it, in all seriousness. He experiences it by virtue of being Richard Gansey III, a fact that has some considerable impact on why he shortens that name. Gansey doesn't want that sort of falseness. He wants people to see past all of that.
But he also wants to make a good impression. He doesn't always do well with that contrast. ]
I just want to look presentable, that's all. But thank you for the compliment. I know it's in there somewhere.
[ He puts the food away, although he's half tempted to try one of those pasties now. He won't, though; he'll save them for when the others are awake. Heading back to the living room, he starts clearing space for Kitty to sit. The sofa is very glue-and-cereal-boxes right now. He'll fix that. ]
You didn't have to come bearing so many gifts. Anyone would think you're spoiling me. [ He shoots a smile up at her, though. Go on then. What is it? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yeah, still on the job. And my boss assigned me the very important duty of disposing of leftover food. Know any place to throw these out?
[ She holds up the bag with a grin. And then she says - somehow speaking completely without the faintest air of flirtation, just as a matter-of-fact sort of statement: ]
Also, that's a really good look for you. You ought to dress like that more often - you look handsome.
no subject
What, in this? It's not exactly neat. [ Presentation is very important. He certainly looks less polished at present, though. Perhaps that's what Kitty likes. ] But thank you.
Those smell good, by the way. What are they? I can definitely find a home for them in here.
no subject
[ With that bit of completely unsolicited fashion advice delivered, she crosses her arms and grins down at that bag. ]
They're claiming to be pasties. A bit of a dubious claim, since I'm quite certain no good pasty has ever been made with rice or chicken or olives in them. But they're tasty, if not exactly traditional. I'm sure you know decent pasties, but you'll be able to fool your flatmates, yeah?
no subject
Well, who says I have girls in mind when I dress? Perhaps I'm not trying to be attractive.
[ Yes, that sounds contrary enough. ]
Are we talking about the Cornish kind or the Scottish kind? It's been years. [ He says that as if it's been several decades, when it's more like three summers. ] Either way, I like things with olives. So they need not complain, I'll tell them it's a twist on a classic.
[ He reaches for the back to put it away, and smiles at her. ]
So. Are you staying over, or is sleep avoiding you?
no subject
Perhaps you're not. But you needn't attempt to dress to seem impressive or reputable. You've got good bearing. You come across as clever and respectable quite naturally. And I've seen the company you keep - I don't think your everyday goal is to have people approach you as someone deserving of deference, is it.
[ And then her hand drops, because - well. Maybe that's a little nosy and meddlesome. He didn't exactly invite all that, did he. ]
And the pasties were listed on the menu as being traditional Cornish. Which - rubbish; you'll be glad of that distance of years so you can forget what they're actually supposed to be. Anyway - I'm over because I've got something for you.
no subject
No, it's not. I don't want deference from anyone. I hate that, actually. [ Because he's experienced it, in all seriousness. He experiences it by virtue of being Richard Gansey III, a fact that has some considerable impact on why he shortens that name. Gansey doesn't want that sort of falseness. He wants people to see past all of that.
But he also wants to make a good impression. He doesn't always do well with that contrast. ]
I just want to look presentable, that's all. But thank you for the compliment. I know it's in there somewhere.
[ He puts the food away, although he's half tempted to try one of those pasties now. He won't, though; he'll save them for when the others are awake. Heading back to the living room, he starts clearing space for Kitty to sit. The sofa is very glue-and-cereal-boxes right now. He'll fix that. ]
You didn't have to come bearing so many gifts. Anyone would think you're spoiling me. [ He shoots a smile up at her, though. Go on then. What is it? ]