Jason scrutinizes the held-out cookie. Since this is certainly not the first baked good that Metody has given him, Metody is probably familiar with this: Jason seems to have a problem accepting gifts, even cookies, and always regards each one like it contains either cyanide or the answer to life, the universe, and everything.
And he always feels the need to trade back. Hands emerge from the pockets of the hoodie after several seconds, gripping something which Jason puts down on the empty seat between them. It's a ring, apparently, lopsided as only home-grown attempts can be. It's black. It's made of.... wax?
(careful inspection will reveal this is actually crayon.)
Jason takes the cookie and stuffs half of it into his mouth. Whilst chewing, he simply Stares at Metody from behind his curtain of lank hair.
You just asked if he is interested in going to the dance. The sheer incomprehensibility of this is temporarily enough to drag his attention from the laminated wood of the basketball court and its two- and three- point marker lines.
no subject
And he always feels the need to trade back. Hands emerge from the pockets of the hoodie after several seconds, gripping something which Jason puts down on the empty seat between them. It's a ring, apparently, lopsided as only home-grown attempts can be. It's black. It's made of.... wax?
(careful inspection will reveal this is actually crayon.)
Jason takes the cookie and stuffs half of it into his mouth. Whilst chewing, he simply Stares at Metody from behind his curtain of lank hair.
You just asked if he is interested in going to the dance. The sheer incomprehensibility of this is temporarily enough to drag his attention from the laminated wood of the basketball court and its two- and three- point marker lines.