The snapping took Dillon off guard, and he looked at April, blinking twice, then shaking off the surprise. “Oh, um... s-sorry, sorry,” he stuttered. It had been a long time since his stutter had shown up—it only ever really showed up in front of girls—but here it was again. “I didn't mean to...” he added.
And then she smiled. He looked down at the ground and cleared his throat. He knew, from their little encounter in the rec room, that she had a pretty smile, but it would just make him look like an idiot if he let himself look for too long.
“It's okay,” he muttered, chewing on his lip and finally looking up at her and giving her what he hoped was a smile, but he figured was an awkward mouth twitch. “You didn't expect me. D-didn't expect anyone probably...” he added. It didn't occur to him right away that she was still holding onto his arm. It didn't actually register until she let go, either, but when she did, he looked at her and cleared his throat. “N-no harm done.” He quickly pushed his arm back into his sleeve before she could catch a glimpse of his scars. No, there was no mystery, but that didn't mean that he wanted everyone to see them. Especially not the pretty girl who didn't seem to ever judge him for anything.
He laughed, though it was probably a little awkward, and he turned his head and looked away. “P-pretty sure you didn't grab hard enough to bruise,” he told her.
Did he see anything? Dillon's eyebrow arched upward and he looked around. “Anything?” he asked her. “I've—uh—I've seen lots of things,” he told her. “Are you... are you looking for something in particular?”