@sylfane's emre says: “i can't decide whether you're charming or frustrating.”
"Funny," The scoff of it scuffs out from the sternum and into his shoulders, pops a gust of air against the back throat. There's a feline coil in the lift of his expression, tips his smile slant, "You ain't the first t'tell me that."
It's busy out here, loud -- Everybody and their mother's packing this Mediterranean bazaar skimming for sales tags and errand goods. Tourists fill out all the gaps between the denizens, throwing licks of languages from all over amidst the daily chitter chatter.
It's good white noise, even if this isn't exactly a covert conversation. An idle one, maybe. They sit outside on metal-welded chairs to some quaint cafe. Cole casts a lazy side glance to the other, knocks an off-hand knuckle against the enamel handle of a petite, little coffee cup. "Funnier still, could say the same 'bout you." He lifts his chin, "You know your stuff. Noticed how you spoke at that debrief. Folks respect you 'round these parts."
