log: adrian and ren
Ren's eyes flickered across the other man's face. Those periods of his life where he'd spent more time sleeping than he ought to have were typically a sign of something wrong, and a lack of energy to deal with any of it, but he didn't know if that was necessarily true here. It felt like the sort of thing one didn't just ask a stranger about anyway, and if he wanted to bring up something more he would. In the meantime though, he could at least give him a cup of warm tea before he sent him on his way. It wouldn't take that long and Ren wasn't in any hurry. Closing up the shop and going back to the motel just meant the rest of the night in a room by himself, possibly with terrible television - and that wasn't just the shows on the television, but also the quality of the picture itself. It threw him back to his very young days when he would visit his Uncle, before he just gave up on television and everything else.
"Yeah, no bother," he shrugged. "I'm not in any hurry and it's a bit chilly out there, so you might as well have something warm when you head out."
The accent was recognizable though. Ren's own years in school in England, and visiting his Uncle on the continent, had given him plenty of opportunities to spend around accents that weren't his own. It wasn't something he'd been thinking he'd run into here. Well, Repose was fucking weird, wasn't it? That was probably part of it.
"It's Ren, my name, I mean." He tilted his head towards the counter, indicating that the possibly English guy could follow him as he headed down the rest of the stacks. He honestly didn't think there was anyone else here, but he figured he should make a thorough check of it on his way back to the main counter.