Jeff's no longer got his guitar hanging off his shoulder. Did he ever have his guitar out here, though? The song's still playing inside the coffee shop, coming out clearer as he opens the door. Rhiaaaaannon sings a voice that doesn't belong to Stevie Nicks. Must be a cover.
"I thought we were meeting up for coffee." He extends a hand to Malcolm. Martin remains seemingly unnoticed, though Jeff's aware, certainly, of the man's malice. There's an edge to his smile, a sharpness in his eyes, that Jeff never seemed capable of carrying before, and it's all for Martin. "C'mon. My treat."
In a blink, they're sitting down at a table, half-empty drinks in front of them, like they've been here for a while now. Someone must've served it to them, but there's no sign of others in the shop.
There's also no seat for Dr. Whitly, but he can pull one up, if he wants. Jeff's laughing, not like he just started laughing, but like he's been laughing-- in media res-- like they've been talking about something really fucking funny. The same song still plays, in spite of the time that had to have passed.
no subject
"I thought we were meeting up for coffee." He extends a hand to Malcolm. Martin remains seemingly unnoticed, though Jeff's aware, certainly, of the man's malice. There's an edge to his smile, a sharpness in his eyes, that Jeff never seemed capable of carrying before, and it's all for Martin. "C'mon. My treat."
In a blink, they're sitting down at a table, half-empty drinks in front of them, like they've been here for a while now. Someone must've served it to them, but there's no sign of others in the shop.
There's also no seat for Dr. Whitly, but he can pull one up, if he wants. Jeff's laughing, not like he just started laughing, but like he's been laughing-- in media res-- like they've been talking about something really fucking funny. The same song still plays, in spite of the time that had to have passed.