Ben liked Tiny because she talked like a bloody Jane Austen novel. Only perhaps without all the exaggeration and melodrama, skipping out pages of descriptions about the countryside and focusing on what was actually happening. It still amused him, and knowing she wasn't after anything from him per se, well it just lowered any need he might or might not feel to maybe brush his hair or put on a clean shirt to go out. He was nearly expecting her to turn up in some Luna Lovegood outfit, which really showed Ben was reading the wrong novels at some times in his life, but still she seemed the same sort of zany to him.
He wasn't messy today, it wasn't the day for going to the pub, it was Cake Day. At least it was until his sister got in on the act and spoilt his plans to eat the whole damn thing all to himself. Either way, the man strolling along the road in a nondescript white shirt and rather decent jeans for once didn't look out of place compared to the rest of the rat race. Aside from his whole demeanor barely noticed the ironed shirts and skirts walking past him.
"Hey Eyre," Lips pulled into a lazy smile that tried to ignore the staring when he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "I like Ben, no just about it. That or asshole, whichever." Personal space bubbles never did feature in his vocabulary; he was already scooting her away towards the doors to the Mexican with his arm dangling over the back of her neck in a way he was calling more casual than a head lock. Whether that was the case or not was still to be determined.
"Bring on the hot sauce, Stalker." A hand pushed open the door in front of them and finally let her go from his grasp, tempted to remove the glasses but restraining himself with a shake of the head.