[ Jesse grins, wide and relieved like he just got off the hook for a crime he definitely committed. He points the end of his candy bar toward Eddie in salute. ] Knew I liked you, man. [ He takes another bite of his own bar, talks around it with zero shame. ]

Can't lie, though; I was kinda ready to throw myself to the mercy of the cheese gods. Like, make an offering, get in line, weep at the altar of cheddar. Shit's intense in here.

[ He glances around. The store is buzzing, borderline feral. Someone's arguing over samples in the distance, someone else is definitely trying to distract a cashier while their friend pockets a tin of powdered soup. It's got the same energy as a late-stage music festival mixed with a flea market apocalypse, and Jesse looks right at home in it. Comfortable in the weird static. That familiar half-alert twitch to his shoulders like he's always half-expecting trouble and half-inviting it. ]

You new around here too, or just naturally blessed with that 'what the fuck is this place' look?

[ It's said with an easy warmth, not mocking - an invitation more than a jab. He doesn't press too hard, just lets the words hang between them as he nudges the toe of his sneaker against a discarded flyer advertising 'Warehouse Help Needed: Must Bring Own Gloves, No Questions Asked.' His gaze tracks it for a second, then flicks back to Eddie. ]