The Eccentric Agent

Am I a child for you?

He looks at me. Then, he smiles.
He lays on his desk just like a little puppie. He makes funny jokes.
He looks at me again, but I don't notice it.

He puts the song.
Everybody starts to write. So I do.
He moves his body, his legs, his arms...just like if he would be playing drums.
He precipitates.

He looks at me again. I look at him.
What should I do then?

I just... blush. And continue writing.