Some may not believe that Dietre possessed a sense of humor, he even doubted it himself, but it was there, dry as the Sahara. It was stunted from neglect, he so rarely felt capable of testing it out, though when his attempts resulted in grins like Oliver’s he was reminded that sometimes making an effort was worth it. He liked making people smile, he wanted to make people smile, only… most of the time he did just the opposite. Especially in the past few days. His fight with Misha had been rather spectacular, it put his usual rows with Damian to shame.
“A wise decision,” Dietre said of using Uber. “Stealing cars is a thing best worked up to over time.” More joking. He needed this sort of foolishness, these sarcastic, silly conversations. He used to have them with Liam until everything went wrong. He needed to talk about things that weren’t his feelings or his problems. Maybe if Misha learned that they could get along, learned to stop analyzing his words, to stop trying to push him toward this or that, to stop defining his emotions… Maybe if he learned to stop trying to help all the time he and Dietre could actually be friends.
Feeling at ease now, Dietre sat down beside Oliver to change his shoes and wait for their ride. He traded darkly shining leather for material of dubious origins, scuffed and sprung… but comfortable. He wiggled his toes inside Oliver’s sneakers, packing his own up before turning toward his companion.
“Not really, no. I’ve had a few appointments within its limits, but I’ve never… explored?” Dietre was not the exploring type. At least not yet, he could change, maybe, with the right influence. “People talk about going there on the forums often. Did you like living there?”