Oh fuck. People. His weakness.

Dirk's just standing there with this handmade basket with a plate and plantain in it, vine in a coil over his shoulder, stiff and expression unreadable in his extreme awkwardness dealing. He makes no attempt to run, instead standing his ground in what he hopes is a nonthreatening stance (but he's crazy intense literally all the time so who knows how successful that is).

After a tense, awkward beat, he holds the basket out in offering, saying, "Sorry, didn't mean to jack your shit."