There he was again. Like clockwork, he spotted the man on the bench as he usually did at this time. There was just something so satisfying to him about routines, about keeping things in order. There was a strange comfort to it, despite how this person was, essentially, a stranger. Walking Pablo over to where he was, he stood at the side and announced his presence with, “Hello,” a deadpan tone to his voice although his expression said otherwise, a small amicable smile to pair with the greeting.
He claimed the spot on the opposite end of the bench, his dog’s leash coiled around his wrist, hands promptly placed on his lap. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just kept moving his fingers along his jean-clad thigh, before finally turning to the other. “Are you, um... are you doing anything for Christmas?” A more personal question than anything he’d ever asked him. He didn’t really know why he’d blurted it out in the first place as he still wasn’t sure that the man liked him that much. Or at all. But he was company. (@caddockdrengith)