[Shinjiro probably could have tried harder not to stare at the scarred and stapled flesh covering the guy's face, but that would have required actually giving a damn. It's the guy's face and the guy's problem-- of course people are gonna fucking stare, with how twisted up and irregular it is.
(Granted, it's not like he's much better. Plenty of people had been giving him concerned or curious stares, too. Maybe he should have tried to wash some of the massive bloodstains out of his coat.)
He'd been expecting to get snapped at for his obvious staring- and so the wave and greeting has him tilting his head, as though trying to figure out the guy's angle. None immediately visible, he shrugs a shoulder apathetically, turning to approach.]
...Sure. Got nothin' better going on.
[Granted, he won't actually drink himself. Too many issues with the idea of losing control. But the eclectic company is better than tooling around the mall in a circle, all alone and with no desire to do much of anything and even less of an idea as to what he'd be doing in the first place.
He steps up to the table and sinks down into the chair opposite the scarred boy, still unable to wrench his eyes away from tracing those stitches and scars.]
You make it sound like you got experience with shit situations. [He reaches out to take the bottle sitting on the table. He may be alleytrash, but he's capable of being somewhat polite-- and so he carefully reaches it over to refill the scarred man's cup for him, as he waits for a response.]
potency error
(Granted, it's not like he's much better. Plenty of people had been giving him concerned or curious stares, too. Maybe he should have tried to wash some of the massive bloodstains out of his coat.)
He'd been expecting to get snapped at for his obvious staring- and so the wave and greeting has him tilting his head, as though trying to figure out the guy's angle. None immediately visible, he shrugs a shoulder apathetically, turning to approach.]
...Sure. Got nothin' better going on.
[Granted, he won't actually drink himself. Too many issues with the idea of losing control. But the eclectic company is better than tooling around the mall in a circle, all alone and with no desire to do much of anything and even less of an idea as to what he'd be doing in the first place.
He steps up to the table and sinks down into the chair opposite the scarred boy, still unable to wrench his eyes away from tracing those stitches and scars.]
You make it sound like you got experience with shit situations. [He reaches out to take the bottle sitting on the table. He may be alleytrash, but he's capable of being somewhat polite-- and so he carefully reaches it over to refill the scarred man's cup for him, as he waits for a response.]