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"Not that I disagree with you." Because he doesn't, but. "But why?"

"No talking monsters and what they do until the food's here?" He raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I'd understand if you were waiting until we were done with our food..."

He's mostly teasing but he has seen a few things about this Steve Rogers guy that-

Steve Rogers. Where has he heard that name before?

"Why, do you have a weak stomach?" It's a tease, and it's a little snarky, but it's not lacking warmth. "I figure this way we don't have to hang around longer than it takes to have dinner if you decide you don't want to, and it'll give us something else to focus on while we're talking."

He put his hand to his chest and winced, winced. Why so mean, Mr. Rogers? Why so mean?

"So apt to get rid of me?"

"Nope, I just figured leaving an escape route open for you to take was a good idea. You've been acting a little cagey." He's teasing, though. Sort of.

He shook his head easily enough.

"Welcome to me. Nothing personal, Fuzzy."

He leans back a little.

"I've pretty much got exactly one person back home I actually trust any further than I can throw them. You're currently higher up than most of my family, if I'm going honest."

"I'm not offended, I'm leaving an escape route open for you. I'm sorry to hear that about your family, though." Not mocking, he is. Actually, all of that is honest.

Yes, Thomas can tell. Not from some supernatural sense. Just from watching. But that wasn't at all what he wanted, or what he was going for. No, he was trying to make a point. And of the things he'd ordered, pity wasn't even on the menu.

"I make my own escape routes, when I want them. I'm here, aren't I?"

"I like being polite. Deal with it." Just that, and it's mild, because it's not exactly pity, but he has his own code of behavior and wolf or not, he's not giving it up.

That gets a laugh out of him, a genuine one, and he shakes his head a little as he reaches over to grab his drink.

"How do I find you people, I'll never know."

But it's said mostly to himself.

"So, what did you want to talk about then? Since we're leaving beasties to later?"

"...How long do you think it's going to take food to get here?!" Smart ass. "It doesn't matter. It's not going to take that long. Probably less time that it took you to work up the nerve to push the button."

"You deal with enough--"

He stopped mid sentence and gave Steve a bit of a Look. It was all in good fun, but it was a Look.

"You see, this does hamper our conversation a little because just about everything in my life has to do with either hairdressing or said beasties."

Then he's smiling over Steve's head at the waitress, who's bringing them a massive plate of fries.

"And thankfully, I'm saved by the bell."

A plate of fries and Steve's burger in there, somewhere. He stayed quiet, though he was polite to the waitress whether she was captivated by Thomas or not (and she was). He was even friendly, but mostly he waited for her to drop off their food and get out of there.

"I didn't mind going into discussion about either one first, if we needed to, but it's probably best that we were saved. Deal with enough what?"

"Faeries. Fae folk. Denizens of the Nevernever. Those types will put out all kinds of traps and the main problem with all of them is that you're boned the second you voluntarily do much of anything."

"Doesn't look like they were able to follow you here, but I hope like hell you stay safe when you go back." Was that an under-reaction? No, just a very direct one. He was kind of horrified - and pissed - at the concept.

"Well, there was no way of knowing whether it was one of their tricks until I pressed the button. Buuut," he says with a nudge to Steve's foot under the table, "looks like not. This is definitely no part of the Nevernever I've ever seen."

"Your world sounds exhausting; eat your french fries." And possibly start talking and telling him more about this stuff.

"Yeah, okay, Mom," he says but it's without any bite and he does start in in the fries. They're good fries. He shoves the massive plate over an inch or two to prompt Steve to try some. You don't just get fries for yourself, after all. Fries are a shared experience.

"I'd've thought the facial hair would've made it hard to call me mom." He picks up a couple of the fries when it's nudged closer, though, and more or less manages to keep cheese off his fingers.

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