[ He does notice, yeah. Tristan isn't about to hoist the kid up and move him to the medical wing on the edge of campus though. The scrapes are minor and the skin red, but hardly raw; they're nothing to be concerned over, really, and Tristan writes them off as quickly as someone who's bruised and busted his own body countless times before should. Instead, he focuses on that stubbornly, upturned face and obediently keeps his gaze up, away from Tyler's knees, even though his sunglasses are still very much dark and concealing. But it's fun, for some reason he can't entirely explain, to wait and play and see what this kid will end up doing if given the chance, because see, normally, aquantances have that awkward phase to weather, where small, forgettable talk is forced out between the occasional stretch of silence. With Tyler though? Jumping right into calling him a stalker is, apparently, the way to go.
So here. A puff of breath caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, and a twist of his lips around a— ] Yeah. Because I make a habit of following baristas who can't get my order right. [ And pushy students who harass him to change their class schedule. Not to mention, he came from the opposite direction, but... – he knows what Tyler is doing though, and he merely mimics, crossing his own arms across his chest with his fingers lightly tapping against his opposite arm. ]
He can't help it. He's a man :| AND SHORT.
So here. A puff of breath caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, and a twist of his lips around a— ] Yeah. Because I make a habit of following baristas who can't get my order right. [ And pushy students who harass him to change their class schedule. Not to mention, he came from the opposite direction, but... – he knows what Tyler is doing though, and he merely mimics, crossing his own arms across his chest with his fingers lightly tapping against his opposite arm. ]