❝ Are you sure? ❞ And there comes a tilt of her head, dark eyes a little worried in nature (not that she would ever admit to that, of course: She doesn’t even know his name!). ❝ Because if you do need it, the offer still stands, kiddo. Always will. We can make room for you––❞
❝ Dios mío–– You don’t even know my name, d’you? Sorry about that. My name’s Maya. ❞
Emil just stares at her. The words and nature, as if they were so common known it confused the poor blonde. His head unable to wrap about such kindness despite himself showing such equal amount. His head lowers, eyebrows furrow, and he is quick to breathe.
"Emil…“ He responded to her, giving his own name as she gave hers. ”Emil Castagnier. Y-you see, it’s fine. I … I p-promise.“
He would mention his age gap, but he holds his tongue. He would not wish to be labeled as insane yet, not by such a person who could later call a friend.
”I’m n-not going to be here for long, and I’ve got some ‘gold’ to help me get around.“
Or ’gold’ was how gald was labeled here, if he was correct.
❝ You don’t live anywhere? …Do you need a place to stay? I mean, the apartment’s kinda small, but we’ve always got room if y’need a place to sleep or something! Like, really, we’ve got room for you if you need it. ❞
"Wait! No, I–I don’t, I mean, I … what?“
”N-no, no! I’m fine, r-really, I j-just, I … I d-don’t need – I mean, I don’t, I’m not–not–I just.“
Cue Emil’s words slowly disintegrating into a jumble of rather unsure and confused noises.
