Aaron Stampler - Primal Fear - You Know That Bar
The door opens to admit a young man-- nineteen, to be exact-- looking tired but guardedly cheerful. He blinks, shakes his head, looks up, and assumes an expression of unfeigned astonishment.
New and unfamiliar surroundings; time for old tricks.
Stumbling back a bit, Aaron stares blankly at everything and nothing, his face a slack frame around dull, confused eyes. Even his body language stutters; every movement is slow, shy, tentative, a little bit jerky. This ensemble of mannerisms tends to inspire two things: the sense that he is very much not all there, and a desire to take him home and hug him and feed him muffins.
Poor kid. He looks so lost and confused. Anybody want to help him out a little? He'd sure be real grateful, he would.
New and unfamiliar surroundings; time for old tricks.
Stumbling back a bit, Aaron stares blankly at everything and nothing, his face a slack frame around dull, confused eyes. Even his body language stutters; every movement is slow, shy, tentative, a little bit jerky. This ensemble of mannerisms tends to inspire two things: the sense that he is very much not all there, and a desire to take him home and hug him and feed him muffins.
Poor kid. He looks so lost and confused. Anybody want to help him out a little? He'd sure be real grateful, he would.