Mudminnow River and basically, i wanna know

the creases bunch and gather around his eyes. he was squinting harder, if that was possible, mouth half-open in confusion. y'know, the thing. he gestures lamely.
he does a double take. a weak scoff. do you seriously not know? 'cuz i called you sir. asshole move of me, i know. he scuffs the bottom of his foot on the floor. if he had hands, they'd be shoved unrighteously into his pockets. when he speaks again, his voice is markedly softer. sorry.
yet again, another sigh, this one longer and more heated— his thin shoulders sag with it. um. what's your name. he does not look particularly excited to engage in conversation, but he figures that it'd be best to come away with at least a name attached to a face. he treats it like he's a zookeeper to a cage full of lions: gingerly, wincing, half his foot out the door in case things took a turn for the terrible.