projectroxas | (no subject)

[ having decided that meeting anthony half-way would be best for this particular... conversation, he walks a bit slowly, quite aware that his dorm was closer to the school than his friend-slash-goalie's house. (that and he would probably have to struggle with his mode of transportation for a while.) so instead of the usual ten minutes it takes him to arrive to this particular destination, he gives himself thirty, casually making his way to one of the benches underneath a tree.

takes a seat, pulls out his cellphone, then begins to check his messages as he waits; it would be at least another fifteen minute wait, one he was finally willing to be patient for. after all, he wasn't expecting much, anyway. when it came to feelings, expectations were the worst things to have, or so he had logically deducted throughout his childhood. besides, it wouldn't be the end of the world if anything negative happened. this was anthony, after all, the boy who clucked and bawked louder than he spoke or made any semblance of sense with his words.

... it almost made him second-guess himself. almost.

pockets his phone and tilts his head backwards instead, letting it rest against the top of the bench. just simply stares up into the branches and leaves of the tree, allowing himself to show a rare display of being lost in some non-thoughts for the time being. ]

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[ nods in understanding, wandering off to grab to-go boxes. hands one to anthony, getting to work on placing the food inside. when he's finished he wordlessly hands it over. ]

[ blinks, accepting the box. ]

Uh. Thanks. [ short pause. ] Have fun. And tell Anne I said hi.

[ straightens and nods, tugging on his shirt to straighten it out. ]

I will. Come next week, she will resume working then. I'll see you at practice.

[ turns and walks to the door and exits, leaving it at that. ]

[ stares after michael dumbly for a moment, then seems to shake himself out of it with the act of physically shaking his head. there are thoughts, of course, buzzing around in the back of his mind like little mosquitoes (he likes me? like-like?! spartan robots can do that?), but when he doesn't want to think about it? he doesn't think about it. at least, not here in public. in anne's cafe. it would be safer to think about it at home or at the flower shop.

using that to bat away the thought-bugs, he checks the bills thrown on the table one more time & strolls out of the cafe in the direction of where his ever faithful tinkerbell is waiting. ]