Ryan was maybe slightly concerned that this may end up more of a conversation with Brendon than an actual grooming session for his dog. Truthfully, Ryan was one of the most on-task people who worked here - and now here was a threat to his productivity streak. Not that he particularly minded. Brendon was funny, a bit antsy and anxious, and admittedly [i]cute[/i] this close up. In a room full of other kids, his personality could come off almost obnoxious, but Ryan was now convinced that that was only his outlook in school when he was perpetually annoyed anyway. Right now, he was charming as ever. [i]Yeah, I’d rather stay. He can be a nuisance- can’t you, Bogart?[/i] Ryan's easy laugh came almost immediately, grinning at Brendon fondly at his use of the classic baby talk. He heard it from others and tended to rolled his eyes, but really. Brendon pulled it off. 

[i]Oh, I don’t doubt you’re good with dogs.[/i] Ryan smiled breezily, feeling very aware of the pawprint embroidered on his work shirt. Ridiculous. [i]Otherwise I’d be concerned as to why you were working here.[/i] He shrugged. [b]"Just wish I had one. My, uh..."[/b] Ryan paused, wondering why he'd even got as far as 'my' when usually he was all right at dodging the subject. He maintained a cheery smile regardless, just tilting his head to the side. [b]"My dad doesn't want one."[/b] Well, it was true. For whatever reason his mind drifted, and he wondered what kind of family Brendon came from. He somewhat knew already - had heard all of the 'big Mormon family' stuff, something like five kids running around that house and all of them were religious. Which was funny, 'cause Brendon really didn't act like it. In fact, Ryan was pretty sure he'd also heard something about weed in correlation to little, innocent Brendon, but maybe that was wrong, too. He was just... interesting. If they ended up friends, Ryan wouldn't mind that. [i]He’s just- disobedient, to, like, everyone, apart from me.[/i] Ryan nodded understandingly, was almost excited to prove him wrong on that, 'cause he did it ninety percent of the time with other patrons. It made sense, anyway; dogs caught on to vibes fast, and Brendon had such a good energy about him. Not that Ryan would say that weird shit out loud.

Maybe Brendon was self-conscious, but Ryan felt no qualms with complimenting his singing. It was [i]incredible.[/i] [i]This[/i] he was self-concious about saying out loud: that Brendon could be a star, looked like he was born to perform, deserved to be doing something more meaningful than high school band. No one else he'd observed in class, not even their instructor, was as good as him at any one of his given specialties. Ryan had seen him sing, seen him play the drums, seen him on the guitar and the bass, even on the piano. Plus a few of the wind instruments - but everyone got forced over there at least once, so. It didn't hold up to much. But he was good at it all. (And Ryan had witnessed firsthand Spencer grimacing at his drumming talent, because Spence was trying to practice on his own with some yard sale drum kit he'd found for cheaps and he was definitely not that skill level.) Anyway. Yeah. Maybe he'd tell Brendon all of that someday, but not right now, where even looking his direction seemed to take him off guard.

[i]So are you.[/i] Ryan stopped, looked up from all the supplies he was laying out and curiously searched Brendon's face. It was... flattering, that he'd even listened, let alone liked it. Ryan barely ever sang, and it tended to only be to his immediate friend group, which was... well. Spencer, usually. Some new lyrics, poetry he'd written he was trying to make marketable, whatever, and he never thought he was particularly great but he could sort of carry a note and he wanted to work on it. And Spencer wasn't the type to go on with compliments about his abilities - plus his uploads on LiveJournal never got attention - so this, just three little words, was sweet. He finally smiled, genuine and honest, at Brendon. [i]Thank you.[/i] [b]"Thank [i]you,[/i]"[/b] Ryan returned, hesitating for a moment before continuing on to Bogart.

[i]He’s a little bitch.[/i] Ryan laughed openly, shaking his head sportively before offering Bogart a treat. He watched Brendon mumbled something to Bogart, heard his name in there, and figured it was just something comforting to keep him from panicking. [i]I enjoy it.[/i] Ryan waited. He'd seen him in there. Had to be something more - related aspirations, something. [i]And, I’m not really good at anything else...[/i] Apparently not. Ryan looked almost affronted, like Brendon had told [i]Ryan[/i] he wasn't good at anything else. [b]"Don't say that,"[/b] he said, groundingly, catching Brendon's gaze and holding it. [b]"Even if it was true, you fucking [i]kill[/i] in there, so. I mean, you're the best in the class. I'm not kidding. It wouldn't be the worst thing to 'only be good at.'"[/b] He cracked half a smile again, less serious looking. [b]"I joined 'cause I thought it'd get me into a real band, somehow. I'm an idiot. So far I've got Spencer and he can only kind of play drums. You know him?"[/b]