[ There's something about a silent child staring up at him that makes Noah just a little unsettled, his hands starting to fidget, tugging at the bottom of his shirt or tucking in and out of the pockets of his jeans in a way that probably looks just as awkward as he feels. Usually kids talk, right? (Well, babies, were the exception, but the girl in front of him was clearly not a baby. She wasn't even a toddler. Maybe an elementary schooler, by the looks of it.)
Then again, he was just some strange person approaching her on the street without warning. Most kids were usually taught not to talk to strangers -- at least, he could remember that much. ]
Okay, okay. [ He gives a firm nod and crouches down until he's at eye level with her. Oh well, talking or not, he can't just leave this little girl alone even if she claims that she isn't lost. ] So, you're waiting for someone, then? Do you have a name? [ His palm lands flat against his chest, as he talks about himself. ] Mine's Noah.
no subject
Then again, he was just some strange person approaching her on the street without warning. Most kids were usually taught not to talk to strangers -- at least, he could remember that much. ]
Okay, okay. [ He gives a firm nod and crouches down until he's at eye level with her. Oh well, talking or not, he can't just leave this little girl alone even if she claims that she isn't lost. ] So, you're waiting for someone, then? Do you have a name? [ His palm lands flat against his chest, as he talks about himself. ] Mine's Noah.