His fingers curl, just slightly, at the touch, but it's gone in a flash as he comes back to himself with a blink. "Right," he tells him, arching a brow. But he stays the comment for a moment (sprinkles, really?) because he's not really surprised, just judgmental every time.

He whistles as he walks across to the shop, charming as always. And when he comes out, balancing a tray with two drinks and a bag in one hand, it's within his five minute time frame. But only just.

"Oh my god, this town sucks," he mutters, getting back into the car where it's warm.