[Tuco's wet, he's aware he's wet, and he knows the longer he stands around, the wetter he'll continue to get. He jostles on the spot, bouncing on the balls of feet while Niko gets on with the grand unbuttoning.
His expression (faintly bemused, with just a hint of petty meanness) softens the moment he takes hold of the jacket. He's never been the kind of man to dress for anything other than lazy practicality. Whether it's tattered and stinking of death, or pretty in a rigidly gendered way, it really doesn't matter: if it does the job, he can work with it.]
...Huh.
[Right now though, he finds himself coveting with the fierceness of a fat pink man stood inside a tailors. It feels good in his hand, it looked good hanging off Niko's shoulders, and he finds that there's a reassuring heaviness to it. Smoothing his hand over the leather, his eyes dart up.]
Well? How'd you feel?
[It's a question in need of answering, sure, but it's also a delaying tactic.]
no subject
His expression (faintly bemused, with just a hint of petty meanness) softens the moment he takes hold of the jacket. He's never been the kind of man to dress for anything other than lazy practicality. Whether it's tattered and stinking of death, or pretty in a rigidly gendered way, it really doesn't matter: if it does the job, he can work with it.]
...Huh.
[Right now though, he finds himself coveting with the fierceness of a fat pink man stood inside a tailors. It feels good in his hand, it looked good hanging off Niko's shoulders, and he finds that there's a reassuring heaviness to it. Smoothing his hand over the leather, his eyes dart up.]
Well? How'd you feel?
[It's a question in need of answering, sure, but it's also a delaying tactic.]