[There's too much happening all at once. The small bundle of barking fur in strong, muscled arms, a questioning look he barely even manages to hold, and an impossibly tall figure welcoming him with such an air of aloofness Tyler feels ten times smaller than he actually is. Tch. Of course it's weird. Tristan doesn't need to say the word for it to be implied, and damn if he doesn't feel creepy. He's pretty sure his skin's turning a brand new shade of red and he's already pondered leaving—no farewell, just a turn on his heels and goodbye—but out of the two? The option of staying, as much as he feels like he's going to ridicule himself, is most likely much less freaky than running away like a coward and without a word.
So he stays, taking note of the light, hopeful vibe in Tristan's voice and that's his cue to respond in kind. He can't trust his composure to help him, unfortunately, but there's something else at his disposal—namely an over-excited ball of energy at his feet.] Pretty perceptive, huh. [Are you always this clever, or are you just making an exception for him? The jab is light and barely even there, and he doesn't wait for him to take his cup. He places them both on the small table next to him, grabbing the towels with a thankful nod as he hurries to crouch and scratch the dog behind the ears.
Finally safe.] There's nobody home. [It's easier to give an explanation now that he doesn't have to look into his bright blue, judging eyes, and the small yipping creature makes for a good distraction.] Roommate's gone, even though he said he wouldn't leave. [There's a scoff, quickly followed by a snort, and Tyler chuckles softly as Tristan's companion barks at the droplets of water dripping from his hair, all the while trying to eat them. Yeah, maybe he should actually make use of those towels, and so he does, momentarily retracting his touch to rub his head.] He's never given much of a crap. [About him anyway, but he's careful to keep that part to himself—he's no whiner. The same can't be said of his new furry friend, however, and there's the ghost of a howl stuck behind tiny fangs as Tyler finds the shadow of a smirk, looking up.] Bet you already figured out that the keys were inside. [Because he's oh! so sharp-witted. It mirrors the jab he's offered minutes ago, and already he feels more at ease—thanks to the little pup pawing at him now for more attention.] D'you mind? [That he's here. And it's a curious thing how one's own confidence can be so easily taken for granted. It takes all but one second for his cheeks to flush again and he rubs his head a little harder, feeling the dog's paws on his bruised knee.] I uh... just didn't have anywhere else to... go. I stopped by the coffee shop and... uh... [...thought of him? How the hell is he even supposed to explain that one without making it sound so wrong, as if coffee is now intrinsically linked to him. And it is, but it's nothing he can express properly, not without coming off as even creepier than he already has. So he fumbles, inwardly, for an explanation or just anything that could complete the rest of his sentence and silence the expectation in Tristan's gaze, but he finds nothing, growing anxious by the second and fisting his hair through the towel and—Bandit. Here he comes, barking loud and heavy and hurting his knee at last, and Tyler hisses, dropping his head to look at him and finding his answer in the process. He hasn't acknowledged it yet, but the name is peculiar and he uses the welcome interruption to his advantage. He clears his throat, breathing through his nose—both amused and falsely aloof—and he looks up again, brows shot high, a tad incredulous.] ...Bandit? [As if he's somehow just realized that such a cute, adorable puppy actually bore such an ominous name.]
....but you already have all the help you need, Tristan B)
[There's too much happening all at once. The small bundle of barking fur in strong, muscled arms, a questioning look he barely even manages to hold, and an impossibly tall figure welcoming him with such an air of aloofness Tyler feels ten times smaller than he actually is. Tch. Of course it's weird. Tristan doesn't need to say the word for it to be implied, and damn if he doesn't feel creepy. He's pretty sure his skin's turning a brand new shade of red and he's already pondered leaving—no farewell, just a turn on his heels and goodbye—but out of the two? The option of staying, as much as he feels like he's going to ridicule himself, is most likely much less freaky than running away like a coward and without a word.
So he stays, taking note of the light, hopeful vibe in Tristan's voice and that's his cue to respond in kind. He can't trust his composure to help him, unfortunately, but there's something else at his disposal—namely an over-excited ball of energy at his feet.] Pretty perceptive, huh. [Are you always this clever, or are you just making an exception for him? The jab is light and barely even there, and he doesn't wait for him to take his cup. He places them both on the small table next to him, grabbing the towels with a thankful nod as he hurries to crouch and scratch the dog behind the ears.
Finally safe.] There's nobody home. [It's easier to give an explanation now that he doesn't have to look into his bright blue, judging eyes, and the small yipping creature makes for a good distraction.] Roommate's gone, even though he said he wouldn't leave. [There's a scoff, quickly followed by a snort, and Tyler chuckles softly as Tristan's companion barks at the droplets of water dripping from his hair, all the while trying to eat them. Yeah, maybe he should actually make use of those towels, and so he does, momentarily retracting his touch to rub his head.] He's never given much of a crap. [About him anyway, but he's careful to keep that part to himself—he's no whiner. The same can't be said of his new furry friend, however, and there's the ghost of a howl stuck behind tiny fangs as Tyler finds the shadow of a smirk, looking up.] Bet you already figured out that the keys were inside. [Because he's oh! so sharp-witted. It mirrors the jab he's offered minutes ago, and already he feels more at ease—thanks to the little pup pawing at him now for more attention.] D'you mind? [That he's here. And it's a curious thing how one's own confidence can be so easily taken for granted. It takes all but one second for his cheeks to flush again and he rubs his head a little harder, feeling the dog's paws on his bruised knee.] I uh... just didn't have anywhere else to... go. I stopped by the coffee shop and... uh... [...thought of him? How the hell is he even supposed to explain that one without making it sound so wrong, as if coffee is now intrinsically linked to him. And it is, but it's nothing he can express properly, not without coming off as even creepier than he already has. So he fumbles, inwardly, for an explanation or just anything that could complete the rest of his sentence and silence the expectation in Tristan's gaze, but he finds nothing, growing anxious by the second and fisting his hair through the towel and—Bandit. Here he comes, barking loud and heavy and hurting his knee at last, and Tyler hisses, dropping his head to look at him and finding his answer in the process. He hasn't acknowledged it yet, but the name is peculiar and he uses the welcome interruption to his advantage. He clears his throat, breathing through his nose—both amused and falsely aloof—and he looks up again, brows shot high, a tad incredulous.] ...Bandit? [As if he's somehow just realized that such a cute, adorable puppy actually bore such an ominous name.]