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Oct 14, 2019 11:35 PM
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He nods. 

 

"Do you want to talk about it, do you want to be distracted from it, do you just want it quiet…" 

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“I don’t know,” he says, a little miserably—

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“...do you have anywhere to be?”

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"I don't," a little uncertain. 

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“...Wellspring Roasters has amazing coffee. It’s just down the street.”

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…what the fuck. 

"Okay," still uncertain. 

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He looks like he’s about to speak,

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and then he bites his tongue for a moment, and disappears behind the door for just a second.

He comes back with his hair loosely up with a pair of sunglasses folded in his hand.

“It’s easier to get out of this place with someone else.”

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Okay, still what the fuck, but in a different way. 

"Makes sense," he says, and pretends he means the entire situation and not Gabriel's statement in particular. 

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He flips the sunglasses neatly open and slides them on.

It takes a few conversations with assistants and other hangers-on before they actually get out of the building. Apparently Sasha is going to be discussing design particulars with him.

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He does and says nothing to contradict this and mostly does and says nothing at all. 

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The cold hits him hard when they step out the door. He stops and shivers.

“...I’m still not used to dressing for New York.”

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"I know what you think of layering, but," and he's not sure what was going to come after the but. "Are we actually going to a coffee place or are we going somewhere else?" 

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“Layering is fine—is there somewhere you’d rather be? I just need to walk.”

And I wanted to go somewhere with you where someone won’t walk in at any moment. Not that they won’t be seen, anywhere they go.

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"Coffee place is fine, I'm just surprised you'd want to be seen with me in public." He matches Gabriel's pace. 

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“Wh—”

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Oh.

Right. That.

“It wasn’t you,” he says, despite this getting across very few of his feelings on the matter.

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"Still. Not what they should be seeing."

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"I've met designers who just didn't care how they looked. It's – different."

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He's pretty sure Gabriel knows what his deal is, which is sort of nice — it means he won't have to explain, if nothing else — but deeply uncomfortable to think about. 

"...I guess." 

He holds the door to the coffee shop for Gabriel. 

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He sweeps in like he's used to it – pauses – reaches behind him to keep it open until Sasha's inside as well.

 

"...it's frustrating when beautiful people don't see it."

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Sasha could dispute being beautiful. Apparently, though, that's frustrating. He finds them a table with two empty chairs.

"...We were going to talk about something?" 

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He's suddenly incapable of looking Sasha in the eye.

 

"...you met...Apollo," he manages, and his voice doesn't break even once.

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He nods carefully. 

"That makes — a number of things make more sense. 

How many people's names have I been getting wrong?" 

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He takes off his sunglasses, folds them with one flick of is hand and sets them on the table.

“...you seem fine with this,” he says, a little suspiciously.

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