#youuuu... YOUUUU... you're such trouble you know that /silly+t

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

A lanky brunette walks into the DX.

His eyes dart around nervously behind a pair of thin-framed glasses, his fingers picking at his nails as he approaches the counter.

"Are you, uh, Sodapop? Curtis?"

He asks, albeit a bit timidly. He gives a small laugh, his eyes finally darting up to meet Soda's.

"My friend's, uh-- told me to, erm,"

He clears his throat, and his hand shoves into the pocket of his jeans. Out from it he pulls a small slip of paper-- presumably with his number on it.

"Here, have this-- Bye,"

The paper is slammed down onto the counter as the boy rushes out of the store.

Soda's eyes flicker up at the boy, but before he can reply, the guy's already gone.

“Ah– uh.” He smiles, picking up the paper. He glances out the window to watch him rush off and laughs a bit to himself.

“Huh. Well, okay then.” He giggles some more, opening up the note and finding the number. “Woah...”

Ding ding!

Curly Shepard comes in, a dog leash and collar in hand. “You said you had a dog, right?”

Soda stares, before quickly nodding and pocketing the note. “Yeah, you're early!” He laughs, going out to the back and picking up the cage, before bringing out Cake.

Curly grins wide at the animal. “Can't believe you wouldn't let Ponyboy keep a pretty dog like that. Your loss, entirely, Curtis.” He takes the dog out of the cage, carefully putting a collar around it's neck. The dog obliges quite surprisingly well.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn't be such an issue if we didn't already have two pets at home.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I do thank ya kindly for takin' 'er.”

Curly nods, petting Cake on the head and saying something to the dog in spanish, which Soda cannot understand. But he can tell it's something sweet, with the way Curly speaks in a higher voice.

Curly clears his throat, before staring up at Soda and puffing his chest out. Playing cool. “Ponyboy doing alright?”

Soda smiles, nodding again. “Yeah, he's alright. No phone calls so far, so... that's a plus.”

Soda can see the way Curly eases up, his shoulders dropping slightly before raising back up in defense.

“Yeah, well, good. He's stupid for getting mixed up with Jennings again. Dumb fuck.” He huffs. “You get our card?”

Soda laughs. “Yeah, I got it, Curly.”

Curly nods back, before looking down at the dog and then back outside. “Okay. Well. Bye.”

Soda waves, and Curly leaves. The time was about 2:45, meaning Steve is right on the way. Soda had that whole schedule memorized, especially now that they were talking again.

Made his mood a little lighter with those two interactions, and with that third thought in mind.

He sat back down behind the counter and waited.