[ Krouse checks the timer in his head as he leans up against a tree of his own, blowing out a grey plume of smoke as he props his foot up against the bark behind him in a way that suggests a habit cultivated to try to look cool. He's done it often enough - and stopped being fifteen, which probably helps more than anything else - that it doesn't look completely embarrassing.

He'll never have the languid ease of the cool kids in a teen drama, but he's maybe more relaxed around this relative stranger than he should be. It's mostly because she laughed. Krouse always gets a little thrill out of making girls laugh, because it's more of a challenge. They generally have higher standards for funny. ]

Pretty much. [ He admits, rolling his shoulders back as he looks up at the sky. ] I may have underestimated how demanding being a waiter at a nice dinner party is. You have no idea how much you have to remember to do with your hands.

So. You're another veteran of the fucked up life experiences club? [ He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. ] I'm not going to pry. Just [ he gestures with the glowing cherry of his cigarette ] small talk. Or statistical data gathering, depending on how you want to take it.