2019-11-17 - Cake, Not Coffee

Sparrow's already in a booth far from the door by the time Garrett gets here, though she's not paying much mind to the entrance. The redhead is dressed tonight in a black knit sweater with a vibrant rainbow arching across the front, worn over a white dress shirt that looks a bit too big for her, its top button undone and cuffs flipped up over the end of the sweater's sleeves. Unseen, below the table, are blue jeans and black boots with matching rainbow laces. She hunches over her sketchbook with her phone nearby, a notification light blinking but unaddressed. She already has what looks to be a glass of chocolate milk with a straw in it, about one third gone already, but she has not yet ordered any cake.

It takes Garrett a moment to get his bearings once he enters the waffle shop, but fortunately, that blaze of bright red hair isn't hard to spot, and soon enough he's crossing the place to join her. Khaki colored jeans and a Decemberists shirt are the order of the day for him, his usual well-worn trail runners on his feet. "Philomena," he greets fondly, sliding into the seat across from her, his foot giving hers a light nudge under the table. "How're you, beautiful?" He reaches for a menu, but the attention he gives it is passing, at best.

Sparrow doesn't look up until she catches Garrett's approach in her peripheral vision, smile brightening when she sees who it is. "Heya, handsome." She glances down at what she's working on, which seems to be something figural, still very rudimentary as if she's trying to figure out positions and placement, before setting her pencil down and nudging that all aside. "I'm good," seems honest despite the weirdness in texts, her smile soft and warm, her foot settling in comfortably beside his to maintain consistent, light contact. "Weird," seems just as sincere, eyeroll and all. "How bout you?"

Garrett follows Sparrow's gaze to the paper, more than a little curiosity on his face, but it seems far too early in the drawing for asking questions, so he doesn't, instead returning that smile, foot idly moving against hers. "Good to hear," he says of her response, nodding. "I'm good, too. Really good," he answers. "Busy. But who isn't, yeah?" Pause. "Mundane weird, right?"

"Good," Sparrow chirps, completing the circle, her smile bright. Then all the brighter when she snorts a laugh and promises, "Mundane weird," with a hand slightly raised as if to ward off the weirder weird. Before she can explain, the server comes by and asks after their order. The redhead requests, "A big slice of the triple layer chocolate cake?" which gets a big smile and an assurance that it's a 'good choice,' before attention falls to Garrett. Once all that business is done and they're alone again, she asks, "You sure you wanna hear about my weird? I don't wanna get you down. I like seeing you smile."

"Normal weird is alright." Garrett actually considers the menu now that the moment has come, making a rush decision. "Uhh, strawberry waffles," he decides with a smile before his attention goes back to Sparrow, and with it a raised eyebrow. "And how much do you think I'll smile if I k kw you've got things bringing you down, hm?" he challenges, giving her a rather pointed look. "Yes, Philomena, I'm sure," he confirms.

"Nothing's bringing me down," Sparrow promises as she hooks her foot behind his calf to rub just a little, a bit of reassurance. "It's just..." Her smile goes a little weird as she falls quiet, as her eyes unfocus, thoughts turned inward. After a second or two of silence, she plucks up her chocolate milk, drawing it close as she slumps in her seat and refocuses on Garrett. "Got that intensity thing going on and. Kinda wanna just fall into it. Kinda afraid of all the fallout if I do. How little time I'mma have. What that'll mean." For all that she said nothing's got her down, that does sound like a lot of worry, more than a little nose scrunch and a slurp of chocolate milk can solve.

"Well that's good, at least," Garrett says, calf tensing up a bit, a silent little acknowledgement of the act of reassurance. He leans forward a bit, arms folded on the table as he listens, brow slowly furrowing with thought. "Like... you met someone that you're much more intense about than you expected or something?" he asks, tilting his head. "I could see how the temptation to lose yourself with someone can be a concern when you're constantly busy," he agrees, not particularly helpfully. "Is that pretty much the problem, or...?"

"Yeah," comes for the first summation, easy agreement with the way Garrett describes it. Way more intense than expected. She fusses with her straw as she watches him, not at all tense as she runs through this, comfortable now that they're started, now that she's focused on him. "Already caught myself breaking my own rules a few times. And it's fine, ya know? I'm doing it responsibly. Not just fucking off at random. Deliberate choices each time, but." The left corner of her lips quirk up, briefly, before leveling out again. "Worried I'mma start skipping out on other things, too. Other people. And think some people will handle that better than others."

Garrett ponders for several long moments. Fingers drum lightly on the table as he thinks this all over. "Well," he starts slowly, fingers falling still as he sits up just a bit straighter, expression suggesting he's choosing words carefully, deliberately. "It seems to me that everyone you're involved with is perfectly aware of the nature of being in a relationship with you, yes? Your attention is cast to many deserving people. Not always getting an excess of that attention is just the nature of the relationship, right?" He pauses to take a breath, clearing his throat, and continuing." Now, if you're suddenly going to be deciding exclusivity is your gig and just focusing on this one person, people will probably be.... disappointed." His face says he himself would be very much included in that list of people. "That's not what you're talking about, is it?" he asks, maybe just a bit concerned now that he gave the thought voice.

Sparrow probably shouldn't breathe that small laugh at the suggestion of exclusivity, but her warm, wide smile assures it's not derogatory. Chocolate milk set down, she reaches across to catch his fingers in hers, digits a bit damp from the condensation on the glass, and promises, "No," that she's not going suddenly monogamous. "I couldn't." She doesn't go into why, but the math isn't hard even if all other factors besides the guy she goes home to every night are removed. But she opts to correct, "Won't," all the same, acknowledging that it's a choice. "It's just... I dunno. Feel like I've been doing an okay job juggling, but now I'm giving up one hand and just... I dunno. I don't want anyone to feel less than just because I am leaning so hard in one direction right now."

There's a small sigh of relief from Garrett. Probably more than is entirely warranted, given the less Tha valid nature of this particular concern. He nods, though, and gives her hand a return squeeze before bending down to kiss the back of her hand. "I know you don't need my approval, obviously, but for what it's worth, if it means you're happy, I say go ahead and lean into it," he eventually says. "You found something new and want to spend more time getting to know about it. Him." Pause. "Or her?" He shrugs. Unimportant. "You're not expecting to, like, just drop off the radar entirely, are you? I mean, will I still hear from you?" Another pause. "Not asking because I expect to, just want to know what to expect," he clarifies. "Proper expectations are important."

Sparrow doesn't need that approval, but it certainly looks like she appreciates it more than she'd probably care to admit, that effortless acceptance helping to resolve some of the worry that's cutting into this good thing she's got. "I'm here," she points out with a challenging arch of one black eyebrow. Before she can elaborte, the server comes back to cheerfully deliver the magnificently sweet late night fare to the couple and make sure they don't need anything else. The redhead chirps a very sincere, "Thank you!" even as she shakes her head to assure she needs nothing more. Garrett's hand gets another squeeze, a brush of her thumb over his, before she withdraws that contact so she can set in on the mound of delicious, decadent chocolate in front of her. "First, we've got practice, right? I'll at least see you then." Bare minimum. Cuz that's not in her plans to drop no matter how hard she leans into this intensity. "Second? You have the advantage of being the easiest person to talk to in the whole wide world. Compassionate, honest, not at all judgy. Put good kisser, sweet and obedient on top of that..." Yeah, he's not dropping off her list, but she doesn't explictly say that. She just pops a bite of cake past her lips and smiles at him.

Garrett's thanks to the waitress comes right in the heels of Sparrow's along with a bright smile as he slides the waffles covered on strawberries and whipped cream in front of him, though his attention is clearly more on Sparrow than the confection. For now. He tries not to look too pleased as reasons he'll continue to see her are listed, but he doesn't try very hard, and as a result he looks very, very pleased by the end. "Remarkably obedient for a puppy," he agrees with a soft laugh, beginning to cut up his waffle into bite-sized chunks. "So, am I allowed to ask about this mysterious person my Philomena is so thoroughly smitten with?" he asks before taking the first bite, smiling right back at her.

Sparrow's smile sharpens with some delicious bit of deviousness for that first note, though his laughter does draw it a bit too soft to properly sell any wickedness. When Garrett asks after the mysterious source of all these feelings she's feeling, she takes a couple of seconds to search his features, to meet his eyes, just to make sure he's sure before she starts gushing about someone else. "He's exquisite," is where she begins, the words soft. "Everything he does is deliberate, and yet he keeps up so well that I'm pretty sure I'm the one working to keep up with him half the time. Sharp as fuck. Funny. Gorgeous. And such a good kisser." The way her eyes go wide, it's like she might be suggesting Garrett should try kissing the guy. "I wanna say that he challenges me? But like... it's just so easy being with him. I feel like--" She stops, smile dimming a bit, going thoughtful. "I dunno. Feeling a lot of things right now."

Garrett shows no signs of insincerity in his interest. He listens attentively, only occasionally glancing down to stab another bite of waffle onto his fork, but then it's eyes up again. And the more Sparrow gushes, the more he smiles, her enthusiasm contagious, apparently. "Someone that makes you have to work to keep up? He must be something," Garrett eventually says, sounding vaguely impressed. "Can I meet him to interrogate him for his secrets?" Definitely teasing, but the teasing fades into a more sincere smile quickly enough. "He sounds pretty fantastic. I'm glad he makes you happy." He reaches across to give her hand another little squeeze. "Interrogations aside, if you're both cool with it, I'd be kind of curious to meet this paragon of Philomena-wooing. Eventually. Not, like, any time on the immediate future."

Didn't Sparrow come here for the cake? She's barely taken more than a bite. With a snort of laughter, she says, "Right?" a bit impressed with the guy herself. She looks down, though, when he asks after a meeting, remembering her cake and returning to it, a couple more bites taken before she answers. "He, uh. Said he wants to come watch us practice," sounds pretty much exactly like an opportunity to meet the guy. And kinda like a question, like she's gauging how Garrett feels about that. "Kinda prefer our first audience was more than just one person, but." She leaves it up to him. And to Jaime. He'll need to give the go ahead, too. For now, she focuses on her cake.

The laugh from Sparrow makes Garrett's smile widen. His head tilts a bit at the suggestion of him watching them practice, eyebrows raising. "And that's a problem because....?" The uncertainty has Garrett just a bit on edge. "I dunno, having extra ears at a few practices before any real gigs probably won't hurt? But, I mean, if you won't want him there?" He's more than a little confused, ignoring his food just as Sparrow starts to focus on hers.

"It's not," Sparrow assures quickly, though the way her eyes go all saucery might make one wonder. Gesturing with her fork, the piece of cake she'd stabbed onto it falls to the table and sidetracks her from any immediate answer as she takes a few seconds to stab it again and eat it. Now empty, she points that utensil at Garrett and tells him, "It's fine," with confidence. After a sip of chocolate milk, she explains, "He's never seen my art before and feeling a little weird about the prospect of bringing him down into the basement where the mural's still unfinished, but. I dunno. Maybe that's the incentive I need to get the thing done, ya know?" That fork waves then gets stuck down into the cake again to pull off another bite. "I'll run it by Jaime."

Garrett raises an eyebrow. Does he believe the immediate denial? Maybe not. But he's not going to force the matter, either. Especially since Sparrow is so readily explaining things anyways. The eyebrow lowers and he gives a slow nod. "Yeah, I could see that," he agrees. "Yeah, good call, ask Jaime." Pause. "How's the mural coming along, anyways?" he asks, another bite of waffle stabbed and put into his mouth, a second bite stabbed immediately after, one with plenty of strawberries and whipped cream on it, the fork offered out across the table to Sparrow.

Sparrow gives her fork a wobble, a prelude to an answer, but then there's yummy stuff being offered across the table at her and, well... Yeah, she's not gonna skip out on that. She leans forward, carefully, mindful not to smoosh her cake, and takes the bite. It might be more romantic if she were making eyes at Garrett while doing so, but she's paying attention to his plate instead and stealing some more strawberries and cream with her own fork. This is taken back to her cake, drawn up with a forkful of luscious chocolate. "Mostly just need Alfie's feedback, but there really, really hasn't been any time to, ya know. Talk about heavy shit like that. But if I stop being weird about it? I can always repaint it if I fuck it up. Or if he doesn't want the door there at all. Worse case scenario? I fix it later. So." Yeah, she's got no real reason to keep stalling. Without any shame, she eats that bite of cake and strawberries.

Garrett feigns disappointment as some of his sweets are swiped by Sparrow, making only a token effort to use his fork to try stealing them back. "Or if you really want to wait for anyone to see it, just say so to this paramour of yours?" Garrett suggests. "If he's half as brilliant as you make him sound, he'll get over it. Hell, might give us a reason to get our sound down and start hunting for gigs harder, give you a chance to show off for him," he adds. Then his eyes are watching Sparrow enjoy his strawberries and cream with her cake and he pouts. Give puppy eyes, even. But only for a moment. "How's Alfie been, anyways? Besides super, super busy?" A hint of concern creeps into his voice.

Sparrow appreciates the show, puffing up with feigned pride. Even as she nudges her plate just a tiny bit toward him in invitation, possibly in answer to those pretty puppy eyes of his. "I need to get it done, Puppy," is sincere. "I'm not at all worried about communicating with him. I just..." She gives her head a little shake. "It's still itchy. The mural. The basement in general. And like. The whole weird weird thing came up at a really inopportune moment, and we haven't had a chance to talk about it yet, and I'm pretty sure I'mma have to talk about it once he sees that, ya know? Everyone figures the rainbow posts out front are pride-related, which sure, yeah, that too, but the creepy sunshiny mural in the basement is gonna get questions." Brows pitch up in playful accusation. "And I know you're gonna tell me to talk with him. And I will. We just haven't had time yet. I mean. Probably this morning, but kinda needed the breather from heavy shit after last night." Which is as good a lead in as any to, "And yeah, Alfie's alright. Sleeping a bit more regularly now. Pretty sure that's why he's working so much. Can't not sleep when he's just physically exhausted all the time, but. I dunno." She shrugs. Maybe she's got it wrong. "We've been getting time where we can. Caught coffee the other morning." Which has her smiling a little bit dreamily.

Garrett accepts the offered plate, looking content with his bite of cake, following Sparrow's lead and adding some strawberries and cream to it before it makes it to his mouth. He blinks a few times as the various layers of complication are laid out. "There's a lot there I have little to no context on and can't offer much input on," he says after a minute, not fishing for information, just stating a fact. "It doesn't sound like there's much there you haven't given a lot of thought to, really." He nods at the mention of having had enough of heavy, letting that branch of the conversation fade. "Coffee, hm? Sounds like a fine way to start the day." And it's when he sees that dreamy smile that Garrett realizes he's never again going to know when coffee means actual coffee and when it means Jessica Jones/Luke Cage 'coffee'. He smiles back all the same, clearly happy to see her happy.

Sparrow might have a lot to say on other points, but it's the way that Garrett says 'coffee' that has her laughing, bright and delighted, smile all wide. And she clarifies, "Actual, put it in a mug coffee," before adding in something of a mutter, "Not that we don't..." But that's really not the point. Her own sweet smile lingers on him for a few contented seconds before she looks back to her cake and refocuses on the conversation. "I dunno that I've given a lot of thought to anything, but I'm definitely good at thinking like this." Verbally. "So. Thanks. I appreciate it. Like. A lot. A lot a lot." She pauses a second to let that sink in. "Might be a teensy bit nervous about the whole age difference thing, too," she finally, way belatedly, confesses. "Not that I care, obviously, but." Tick tock. "He's closer to my dad's age than mine."

Garrett laughs and shrugs. One can never be sure what someone means! "Well, actual coffee also sounds nice," he says, still grinning, haoiy to just watch Sparrow laugh and smile. "Glad I can help. You ever need someone to use..." Very deliberate pause and and innocent blink, "....as a sounding board, you know where I live," he offers. The age difference does get a curious look. "That so?" Pause and a playful little nudge under the table. "What's the opposite of a cougar?" he wonders aloud, sticking his tongue out at her briefly. "I don't think he'll mind the difference," he speculates.

It's an awfully sweet look Sparrow turns to Garrett for that intentional hesitation, heavy with affection instead of any of the expected lasciviousness that pause probably deserves. That little nudge is answered in kind, just like that face he makes, her tongue stuck out too in prompt retaliation. "I dunno about that," comes her ready reply. "He, uh. I'm pretty sure he thought we'd have nothing at all to talk about, nothing in common. Which means I'm flagged as an exception right now. Which means I have no idea how he'll handle my friends, ya know? Not that I'm all that worried about you and Jaime with your grown-up lives and grown-up jobs, but most of my friends are my age." After another bite of cake, she adds, "And I have no idea how my friends are gonna take to me being so hot and heavy about some one who might be forty." It is definitely not an insigniicant age gap. "But! The real important question here?" Look at that serious face! Eyebrows all high like that. Watch how it goes all soft before she asks, "Is that what you meant when you suggested coffee and I just failed the check on our own damned inside joke?"

"Well, you /are/ pretty exceptional, so of course you're an exception right now," Garrett points out, the last few bites of waffle pushed away as he focuses on the conversation. He does strike a feigned look of offense, though. "Most of your friends are your age... just how old do you think I am?" he asks, grinning. "I'll try to be very grown up and interesting if or when I meet him," he promises, overly solemn. Her exaggerated lead up to the 'real question' gets a laugh, then a little waggle of his eyebrows. "Was it?" he asks, giving a shrug, hands up, very 'guess we'll never know'. But then it fades, unwilling to fully commit to the act. "It wasn't. If you want I can make the offer again, though, and we can assume it is. Shame you have to be up in the morning," he sighs, playful light in his eyes at odds with the otherwise forlorn expression.

Sparrow might roll her eyes at the sweet cheese with which Garrett leads, but her smile's big and dopey all the same. "You have a degree," she points out with a little fork-waggle. Which excluses him from any classification as a college kid and makes him, by default, all that more grown-up and interesting. She snags a little bit of the leftover strawberries and cream from his plate to enjoy with the last of her cake, just a couple more bites enjoyed while she meets his impishly forlorn gaze. He might be able to see the numbers running behind her eyes, to see if she might fit a little coffee into her itinerary. There's even a quick check of the time on her phone. Stupid clock telling the stupid time. "Raincheck," sounds like she means it.

Pocketing her phone, she gets up and, before Garrett can follow suit, slips into his side of the booth and leans in close. She doesn't smell like herself today, this scent definitely more mascline, clean: white musk, citron, lime and a hint of lilac. "You are amazing. Truly. This did me more good than you can know." Not that she was bad before, right? "Now kiss me."

"Ugh. So you're saying I'm an /old person/," Garrett exaggerates, faux-fainting against the back of the booth for a moment, just to sit back up a heartbeat later. A grin as the strawberries and cream are put to good use, and a more than interested look when Sparrow is considering the time. And a ghost of disappointment at the answer, but he really should have known better given the time, and the disappointment is short-lived just through basic reasoning. The promise of a raincheck is just icing on the cake, really. Which makes Sparrow sliding into his side of the booth the cherry on top. Fitting, with the red hair and all. "I'm glad I could help. I like seeing you happy," he says breathing on the scent. He smells like woods, unsurprisingly, almost like that's where he spends the majority of his free time. "Well, if you insist." He reaches up, a bent finger reaching to tilt her chin towards him so he can lean in and press his lips to hers, softly at first, totally Waffle Shoppe appropriate, we're his tongue not brushing lightly over her lips.

Sparrow doesn't keep it entirely Waffle Shoppe appropriate. But, ya know, Waffle Shoppe at after midnight appropriate, maybe. Her lips part to deepen that kiss which she happily indulges in for several delicious seconds, all that sweetness on their lips. When the kiss breaks, she keeps close for a moment longer, just savoring that nearness. "You really do make a girl want coffee," she sighs... and then scoots back out. Stupid lab days. Without a proper goodbye, she makes her way to the register, covering the full tab for the table and then heading out into the night, toward home and bed and responsibility.