The hawk-eyed pegasus has never really been disliked before. It comes as an extremely unwelcome shock. He frowns. Somehow, he manages to look handsome even with that ridiculous, childish look on his features.
“Oh don’t worry, I have a very low standard for fun.” The quip is out of his mouth before his own brain can register the words. Just-- heart-- throat-- mouth. Thoughtless as breathing. “Or so I’m told.” He adds with a grin that is so genuine it hurts a little.
And then he remembers that he’s jealous. No, not jealous, that’s unbecoming. We take it back.
And then he remembers that he’s threatened. No wait, not threatened either. Erm, agitated, that’s it.
And then he remembers that he's agitated, quite rightfully so... not at any one or thing in particular, of course. Just a general, run of the mill agitation that the other pegasus brings upon himself. For of course, this was all Andras’ fault, all this insecurity and uncertainty brewing like indigestion in his stomach.
The charming smile wavers like a spinning top that’s lost its momentum.
And then, as tops are want to do, it falls.
“Good gods,” he thinks suddenly, with a sinking feeling. “I want this fucking guy to like me, don’t I.”
Mateo shakes his head, with no explanation. “Are you lost?” he asks suddenly, and the question does not know if it wants to be asked with genuine concern or as a snide insult. It comes out as a bit of both. He finds himself biting his lip, hard, before saying "I mean-- I'm sorry-- I don't know what I mean."
"Want to get a drink with me?"
Oh oh oh, we are a very confused boy.
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