"I resemble that remark," Brandon responded with an amused smirk. No one could ever accuse him of not having a sense of humor. He'd always prided himself on being able to laugh at himself, and this was no exception. There were so many undertones in Bea's words, and it was really hard to keep himself from playing along with them. "In a lot of ways, I'm not," said with a bit of a smirk, so she could take it however she wanted to. Innocently or otherwise. "But adulthood changes everyone, you know? And the apocalypse really hasn't helped much as far as that goes."
Raising an eyebrow, Brandon shrugged and nodded. "I was fucking with you," he told her honestly. Brandon was big on credit where credit was due. And awkward wasn't a feeling he was used to, but all of a sudden, he was feeling it and then some. He scratched the back of his neck and searched for something else to say.
Nodding his head, he gave her a little smile. "You know, I think everyone's different now," he pointed out, but listened when Bea explained a little bit about their lives. "Why did they like her best?" he asked. "I mean, you're a likeable person. At least I think so." More likeable than most of the chicks around here. Was it another case of people changing since the apocalypse started or something? "Everyone always liked my sisters best, too. For what that's worth." Leah was the well behaved one, who had to behave because she was the caretaker. Lilah was the smart one who would never lay a finger out of line, and Kori was the good, sweet one. Brandon, though... yeah, he was always trouble.
Shrugging, Brandon snorted a laugh. "Beats the fuck out of me, man," he told her. "Don't know what makes that family tick, really. But it could be both of those things." It wasn't really his place to tell her about his past, so he didn't mention that. If Silas wanted it brought up, he could do it himself. "Though if there were bad guys, he'd be ready and willing to take them out."
"Good to know," he told her honestly. "A lot of people see how I act and think I'm just a douchebag, so it's good to know someone knows." A rare moment of humility, embarrassment about how people saw him.
Smirking, Brandon chuckled. "There was a guy in our precinct who was so obsessed with looking good. He spent his whole fucking paycheck on these suits that he only got to wear on weekends. Guy got a lot of tail, though." Probably not appropriate conversation for someone that he was into, but it was what it was. Brandon had never been big on mincing words, anyway. She spoke of dirty jeans and a worn out t-shirt and Brandon looked down at his attire. "Well shit," he snorted a laugh.
Shrugging his head and his lower lip, he smirked at her. "It could've been. I'd give you permission to pick out something for me, but..." he paused and gave her a playful, somewhat challenging look, "frankly, I'm a little fucking scared of what you'd come up with." He wasn't, really; she seemed to take fashion seriously enough not to make a joke out of it.
"Thanks," he told her, not even remotely embarrassed. Mostly because it wasn't false, and false modesty irked him. "It wasn't one of those black leather jobs, either," he shrugged. "A nice brown leather jacket. Comfortable as hell. My first expensive purchase back in the day."