carter bennett ( human ) . (solepurpose) wrote in light_of_may, |
You didn't last as long as he had in the hunting game without being aware of your surroundings so when the woman's gaze lingered he sensed it, felt the weight of it fixed on him and turned his head just as she was angling hers in another direction. For a few moments he watched her in return before going back to what he was doing, setting the pump going and making sure it wasn't going to slip before letting go and letting it run, making sure not to take his eyes from the little screen for long. By now he could more or less gauge the time it would take to fill the tank, he'd been on the road long enough -- in general and in America specifically -- to know when he would need to remove the pump, there was no need to watch it obsessively.
He heard the small clatter of the woman's card falling to the floor and turned in her direction as she bent to reclaim it and when she spoke he offered her a smile. Just because he was raised to be a hunter that didn't mean he hadn't also been raised with manners. Manners are free his mother had always said, still did, and her children -- even her late husband -- had never been able to get away with any little slips. "They do seem to have lives of their own sometimes," he said in return. Over here his accent sounded even more pronounced, that touch more formal than it had back home in England, it was just one of those silly little things he doubted he would ever understand. Instead of putting his hands in his pockets as any other man might have done to fend off the chill of the evening air he kept them loosely hanging at his sides but clenched and flexed them a few times in succession, encouraging the circulation. Pocketing them would hinder him in the event of an attack, no matter how unlikely.