The kid had no family. None. Nik felt his heart twinge a little bit, like it did whenever his paternal instinct kicked in.
He stood to the side to give the kid privacy for his call, watching people walk by and bouncing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to keep warm. It really was miserable weather in London, today - the kind of bitter cold that had Nik longing for home.
The kid was back, and saying something about a lost number. Nik pretended he hadn’t seen the whole charade involving chickening out and then patting himself down for what Nik assumed was a piece of paper that didn’t exist.
“Ah, that’s a bummer. Happens, I guess,” he nodded in a vague direction as he continued to speak, “There’s this little place down the road. Cheap as dirt, but surprisingly good joe.”
They started down the street together, walking side by side. Nik fidgeted with the lint and wrappers in his jacket pockets while he thought about what to say.
“Oh, kid,” he said, “You got a name?”
Carlos feels proper smooth with how easy the man takes his excuse. Almost enough to actually consider getting asking for a stage act at the carnival after all. He clearly has some acting chops.
The high of that eases him into the conversation. He falls in step easily and doesn’t even feel awkward with the small talk. “Cheap’s great actually,” he smirks as he walks. In his pockets, his hands work to count out the odd coins and bank notes he stuffed in there earlier. Back when he wasn’t expecting to go out for some coffee today. He did however save that payphone money, so he should be good.
“Sure do. It’s Carlos. Pleasure. And you are?” The smile he gives is a little warmer than what Carlos is strictly used to, be the man is oddly easy to talk to somehow. When they reach the shop, he holds the door open for him because he’s a good kid like that. And because going in first would burden him with choosing a table.
It’s only when he’s seated and there is nothing else to pull the attention away from the bizarre situation that he starts getting restless again. “So is this a habit of yours? Picking up strays?”, he asks, rubbing his clammy hands on his pants.
