His mouth upturned even more at the corner in rather delighted surprise at the man's mention of a tart recipe, as though getting recipes was a regular hobby of his. That was by no means the sort of thing he had expected to hear from the stranger - from most anyone? - and at once he had a fair few questions on the tip of his tongue, clamouring to be asked about the man's life.
But he'd already asked another, and that took him into startlingly familiar territory. Work was both the best excuse he had for not meeting more people, and the truth of why he did not; indeed, Ari was almost amused by the fact that he had apparently met a kindred spirit on the one day he'd not gone straight home after work.
He might have said something to this effect and maintained some semblance of normal, comfortable conversation, if the man had not added I suppose I am not the sort the ladies exactly clamor for. "I'm sure that's not true," Ari protested, blurting out the words before he'd had a proper chance to think them over. But it was worse than that - somewhere he had lost his filter - because now every thought that crossed his mind as he studied the stranger was leaping to his lips, apparently to be made public. "You're far too handsome to say a thing like that. I mean, with those eyes, the hair -" tousled, but in a pleasant, charming way, a bit like - "you actually remind me of a friend of mine, a little," Ari remarked, before he could stop himself; "he -" oh no, oh no no no (Ari clamped down on his tongue, refusing to go there, Merlin), "- has the same sort of hair. Dark. You know," he recovered, his voice somewhat strangled.
He must have really lost his tolerance somewhere along the way, if this was what an ale or two could do to him these days. If he hadn't before, Ari now felt rather nauseous. Probably, he should make a break for it before the man digested anything he'd just said - or worse, read anything into it - but a small, foolish fraction of Ari's brain thought he might be able to smooth things over if he stayed, in order that those remarks might be forgotten. Even better, buried and erased.
"Have you got any particular tastes?" He asked lamely. Of food. For choosing the food stall. Merlin.
But he'd already asked another, and that took him into startlingly familiar territory. Work was both the best excuse he had for not meeting more people, and the truth of why he did not; indeed, Ari was almost amused by the fact that he had apparently met a kindred spirit on the one day he'd not gone straight home after work.
He might have said something to this effect and maintained some semblance of normal, comfortable conversation, if the man had not added I suppose I am not the sort the ladies exactly clamor for. "I'm sure that's not true," Ari protested, blurting out the words before he'd had a proper chance to think them over. But it was worse than that - somewhere he had lost his filter - because now every thought that crossed his mind as he studied the stranger was leaping to his lips, apparently to be made public. "You're far too handsome to say a thing like that. I mean, with those eyes, the hair -" tousled, but in a pleasant, charming way, a bit like - "you actually remind me of a friend of mine, a little," Ari remarked, before he could stop himself; "he -" oh no, oh no no no (Ari clamped down on his tongue, refusing to go there, Merlin), "- has the same sort of hair. Dark. You know," he recovered, his voice somewhat strangled.
He must have really lost his tolerance somewhere along the way, if this was what an ale or two could do to him these days. If he hadn't before, Ari now felt rather nauseous. Probably, he should make a break for it before the man digested anything he'd just said - or worse, read anything into it - but a small, foolish fraction of Ari's brain thought he might be able to smooth things over if he stayed, in order that those remarks might be forgotten. Even better, buried and erased.
"Have you got any particular tastes?" He asked lamely. Of food. For choosing the food stall. Merlin.
