( there's an abrupt laugh, but his eyes are gleaming--he doesn't think that he's lying, far from it. he's learned enough by now to recognize danger when he sees it; it's just that he also has so much faith in his ego, or rather, in his abilities, that he knows nothing is going to touch him unless he lets it. he might be dancing with the devil, here, but the devil hasn't left, either, which puts them at something of an impasse; is he going to give up, let the stranger keep his helmet, and swerve along to the bar for the drinks he's been eyeing? well, it wouldn't really do either of them any good, especially if all his companion is going to do is stare at the whole resort past the reflected gleam of that visor; he's not going to learn anything that way, either.

so the empty table becomes more than just a pit stop: he takes a step back against it, palms curving around the edges, so that he can heave his weight up and take a seat on the edge. )

Did they? How terrifying. ( his smile's worse when his eyes are on display, studying his companion like he's some kind of insect, trying to decide whether he wants to trap him in a bottle or pin him to a collection book. ) How about we meet in the middle, then? I'll take it off you, instead.

( he's not going to make that mistake again, of touching him--at least not yet, not until he's decided what the reaction will be. as if in offer, his knees spread apart, encouraging the stranger in closer; with the way that he's posturing, he thinks he might be coming in for a fight, instead, which means that he's already measuring the weight of infinity around him, prepared to stave off an attack. it's messy, fighting somewhere like this: with people around, 'innocent' people, anyway, but he's going to have to work harder to get them somewhere private.

which does have him tilting his head, as though in consideration-- )

If you're afraid to show your face, we could always get a room together. You know what that means, right~?