i'm trevor fucking belmont.

       she's not wrong - trevor is, in fact, a stout man -, but what he means is that the beer he was waiting for is positioned on the counter just behind her. he's trying to look like a polite guy - or at least not as rustic and awkward as he normally is. the belmont realizes the woman is perfectly accommodated and he honestly doesn't want to move her from there.     “  ------  i just want my beer. that one.  ”

       the fact that people are all the time getting into his life, pointing out his many mistakes and marginalizing his origins, made trevor learn to appreciate when people respect his space. this is a very important thing. he's used to leading a lonely life, to deal with his own shit alone. and the hunter learned to appreciate it, to live that way as if it were the only way to live. that's how he feels comfortable. when someone understands and respects it, however, he feels more inclined to be friendly.     “  ------  well,  ”     he pauses and sips what's left of the beer in the glass bottle, then puts it in the counter.    “  another one would be great.  ”

       “  that’s because i’m smarter than you and everything thinks. right? i'm not just a fucking drunk who wanders around spending all my money on booze and prostitutes.  ”     a dramatic pause.     “   ------  okay, i can be that, but i’m not just that.  ”

       “  ------  ... look, in my defense, if you were saying something really decent i would be listening.  ”     trevor's being childish, he can admit it. but his pride is greater than his willingness to make that discussion have any sense. yet he makes a concession and, amid sighs of defeat, murmurs to his other self:     “  right, okay, i wasn’t listening. i’m a fucking jerk. can you please be the civilized one here?  ”

       “  ------  there is always something to be regretted, my dear. i'm fine with that, with that idea. if it is too much for you, you can always lay your head on the pillow and sleep peacefully if you convince yourself that the choice was mine.  ”

       “  ------  you always read my mind, girl.  ”     he lifts the mug for it.

       honestly, trevor doesn't trust that creature whatever it is. the soft and seemingly friendly speech doesn't convince him at first  ------  he knows very well the devil seduces and then stabs in the back. and he knows from experience.     “  what the hell do you want from me?  ”