action; Alois you mood ruiner
[ He finds himself pulled from his mulling thanks to that rather unsightly 'splut' at the back of his head. Of course, this does nothing to elicit a slight glance at the boy and his carton of eggs. Ah, here we go. A sense of normalcy to say the least. He'd been waiting for this, expecting it, really. Yet another way to call his attention, another way to turn his eye.
But he notices those small things. There's fear in there. There's evident frustration, it seems. There's blood on his lip and the sight causes Claude to elicit a barest heard hum of consideration. Had he caused that much of a reaction, really? Now that he hadn't expected. Not in the least.
At this rate, he'd probably need a shower when they got back. Of course, the question elicits that age old answer. Perhaps it was habit between them. Rote memory. ]