Dietre didn't mean to scare her, it was the last thing on his mind. There was nothing that tore at his heart more than the look of fear in a woman's eyes. He always saw his mother's face and with it the memory of his helplessness to do anything to save her. Though this girl was thrusting him out of his comfort zone, he'd much rather see her smiling and laughing, than cringing and meek.
"I'm not. I'm not upset. I don't know--I mean, I shouldn't have said.." He breathed a heavy, frustrated sigh, scowling again, but this time at himself for being such a boarish idiot.
"Really, forgive me."
Sweet? He blushed again, faintly (the kid seemed to turn red at the drop of hat), shrugging his shoulders. He didn't think he was all that sweet, though he wasn't exactly sure what being sweet meant. He saw himself as a clumsy, stammering fool that anyone would get annoyed with. He saw himself as laughable. The 'gorgeous' comment wasn't given as much consideration. Dietre used a kind of odd, unfeeling logic when it came to his looks. He looked like his mother. His mother was a model, she was beautiful. Therefore, he was also beautiful, but he never really thought about it. Because he didn't feel it, he failed to notice its effects on others. Maybe if he paid attention to what it did to people, he'd have a bit more confidence.
"So it does." The sun rising.
"What thing?" No time to really think, for when the doors opened, he was tugged along, and he had no choice but to follow.