Re: Dietre + Oliver ; diner times
A somber shake of his head. No, now that Dietre thought of it, he didn't always trust nice. He had a tendency to suspect the niceness of others as patronizing. It was not so much the fault of the other person as it was just his overwhelming self loathing skewing his perception. He could be so pathetic sometimes, it was easy to assume people were just pitying him. He certainly wasn't getting that vibe from Oliver, however, which was refreshing, but at the same time anxiety inducing. Nothing was easy.
Aside from his nervous fidgeting, Dietre had done a decent job of feigning calm. That was all shattered when the other boy asked if he was sleeping with Misha. It was such an unexpected, and personal, question, that D sputtered, his pale complexion suddenly ablaze. "No..! Of course not!" He could not have sounded more scandalized.
Embarrassed, he shrank a little in his seat. A line formed between his brows as he listened to the rest of what Oliver had to say. He flinched when the spoon aimed toward him, and then looked quite lost. "Um... I don't know if I follow you..." It was better to not be liked? That went against everything Dietre understood about how being social worked.
"I'm on medication." A shoulder lifted in a half shrug. "Several, actually." Though lately he had begun to secretly phase out the anti-hallucinogens. There was no point in taking them if the things he saw were real. No pill was going to make them go away.
As for why he didn't go for music, "My father wouldn't let me. I went for business." He scowled at his coffee, he couldn't speak of that time of his life without reliving all the angst and frustration.