Matthias hadn’t expected to be stopped—not that he was in a rush to be anywhere. He’d been walking with no real destination, just letting the night air settle the static in his head, when suddenly: Hi, sorry, hi…
He blinked, taking in the girl in front of him. Bright-eyed, a little breathless, and—judging by the way her words tumbled out in a near panic—very, very lost.
His hands stayed in his jacket pockets, head tilting slightly as he listened.
The offer of a hotdog—singular, possibly halved—almost made him laugh. Almost. Instead, he let out a short breath, more amused exhale than anything. “You’re really willing to put your last meal on the line for directions, huh?”
Matthias glanced around, taking in their surroundings. No river in sight. If she was looking for the ports, she’d gone way off track.
"Alright, Olivia," he said, shifting his weight slightly. “Lucky for you, I know where we are. And luckier still, I don’t plan on mugging you in exchange for your single, pity-offered hotdog.” He smirked, dry but not unkind. "C’mon, I’ll point you the right way."
A pause, then—because something about the way she carried herself set off a quiet something in his head—he added, “You new new here? Or just bad at directions?”