2022-01-25 - False Face

It's a freezing evening, with snow whirling along the street. But that hasn't stopped Joe for heading out for something hot from the coffee shop, as if he couldn't bear another moment in the warmth of his apartment. He's muffled up in a heavy greatcoat, white silk scarf, black watch cap, and those half-fingered gloves of an ocean blue - absurdly coordinated with the knuckle tattoos that peek out from underneath. There's a distinct limp as he makes his way towards the counter, but his expression is contented.

WHY?! Why is it so ungodly cold? One doesn't have to be a mentalist to read this off of Gabriella as she comes into the coffee shop. There is a shudder that runs through her as she's huddled in around her core. The woman is sporting a winter coat and warm ankle boots, but it's the kind of winter coat that non-winter people buy. It's pretty and puffy, but kinda sucks for actual wind chill. While normally flirtatious right off the bat, she just moves towards the counter. One might hear her actual teeth chattering. A few bounces on her toes to try to get blood unfrozen. "Is it always like this?" The words leave her lips towards the man in front of her in line. She also sports a brightly knit rainbow hat with a poof ball on top.

He's already pulling his cap off, leaving his curly hair in absurd disarray, and stuffing the cap into his coat pocket. "This time of year, it generally is," Joe commiserates, as he turns his efforts to his gloves, tugging them off, one by one. He flashes the barista a grin and places an order for some custom caramel chai monstrosity. A beat, and he wonders, "Where'd you say you were from, originally?" Like surely that'll explain her reaction to the cold.

"Well.. originally here. However, from the age of five years old and on?" Gabriella doesn't seem ready to part with any of her outer clothing yet. She waits a few more moments and shivers. "Texas and Louisana and L.A. and southern warm places. I miss the warmth already." There is a slight smile towards the man as her eyes stray up the the mess of curls. "Chai latte please." She offers to the barista when it is time to take her order. Then a cant of her head. "If you want to add some brimstone from hell to keep it warm, I'm okay with that."

Joe drops his tip into the jar in the form of a scattering of golden dollars coins, steps aside to wait for his drink to be ready. "Mmmh, that'd do it," he says. "I feel you. I'm from Georgia myself, and my first winter up north in Boston during college was a rude awakening. It didn't help that it was one of the worst winters in decades. I had no idea what the hell to do with that much snow. 'least I didn't have to drive in it...but I remember spending so many nights in my dorm huddled under an electric blanket."

"Fuck. I'm just going to huddle under any blanket. I'm already not looking forward to going back out there. You think they will let me live here until the thaw?" There is a hopeful look to Gabriella as her hat finally comes off. This causes her hair to stick up in the back, she doesn't seem to care. A slow peeling of those protective layers of warmth from her frame. She pays by card. It even has her name on it. "So why did you go from Georgia to Boston?"

"Might put you to work, but couldn't hurt to ask," he replies, with that crooked grin. "Might be a while, though. Spring can be slow in comin', this far north."

Joe unknots the scarf, but leaves it draped around his neck. "'cause I wanted to go to a school with a really good engineering department, and my choices were MIT or Caltech. Got a partial athletics scholarship at MIT, so that was that," he explains.

Gabriella tips her head to that for a few moments as she nods. "I went to UCLA because I managed a scholarship." She seems to admit this almost unwillingly, as if she just gave him some key to a treasure chest. Or you know, some honest answers about herself. "Then you know, psychology." Her lips twitch at something to that. Then she looks back towards Joe thoughtfully. "Did you like Boston?" Her chai latte is given over as she finally takes off her coat. "Where are we sitting?"

"I loved it," Joe says, without hesitation. "Culture and climate, it was so different from Savannah, where I grew up. I was lucky in that my first duty station in the Navy was in Boston, too, on the USS Constitution." His smile is almost wistful.

But then he's raising a brow at her. "College's so expensive. Did you like LA?" he wonders. A glance at the tables. "Not near the door, other than that, you can pick." Disposed to humor her, for the moment....and in no hurry at all to return to the cold outside.

Shawn has been tucked into a corner with big fat noise canceling headphones over his ears. His shoulders are hunched over as he doom scrolls. Whatever he was listening too ends and he perks up at the conversation he only half hears "Did you say physiology?" He is like a big puppy who was just offered a treat.

Gabriella directs Joe as far from the door as she can manage. So much cold! "I didn't dislike it." There is a pause and her lips curve upwards. "Okay, maybe being a white, blonde haired girl that got lost in East LA one time was less than comfortable." A pause. "Yes, it's very expensive." A longer pause. Maybe she's not going to talk about her college experience at all.

"I spent all my time lost in books growing up. So it means that I put my nose to the grindstone. I graduated high school with honors and got in as a scholarship student." There is a shrug like no big deal. "Actually, sorry to disappoint. I said psychology. But I know a bit of physiology." Then back towards Joe. "Why Navy?" She resists the you like going down joke. It was hard (haha), but she resists. It might glitter a little in her eyes though.

Sporting a battered leather jacket, a tee shirt reading in large block letters, let me put this in spanish for you, NO and his usual snug black jeans half assedly shoved into scuffed boots, de la Vega's checking messages on his phone as he hustles his way inside. His shoulders are hiked up to his ears, his cheeks are puffed up, and he makes his way to the counter and immediately orders, "Black coffee, better make it a large. You get a load of how fucking cold it is out there?"

Given his drink, Joe settles down with that rather gingerly air he has, at times. Clearly, the bad hip is acting up. He listens to her, brows going up promptingly. "Just worked your way through college, then, eh? Not into partying?" Shawn's interjection is greeted with a friendly grin, before he replies, "'cause at the time, Navy pilots had slightly better odds of making it into NASA than either Air Force or Marines...and I figured if I didn't make it in, it'd be more fun to finish out my career in the Navy."

Then Javier appears, and he's waving a tattooed hand at the cop. "Hey, you. Yeah, it's colder'n a witch's tit in a brass brassiere tonight, isn't it?"

"Oh." Sad Shawn. They aren't going to talk about his favorite topic. He starts to wind up his headphones slowly. No rush here to go anywhere.

"You could almost keep a body fresh just outside." Well, one comment.

Gabriella lets her green eyes slide up from Joe towards Javier when he enters, "Javi.." Then back to Joe as confusion fills her eyes. So much confusion. "Wait.. Navy pilots? I thought the Air Force just sort of rented out pilots to them. It's really ..." Yeah, she's one of the masses that might have thought it was all sea and no sky. A quizzical look. "So.. did you get to NASA then?"

She takes a drink of her latte for a few moments. "My mother partied enough through my childhood for me. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-party. I was just very hyper-focused on living a different life then I had to that point. Drugs are fine for a moment. I suppose. Drinks, fuck, I can knock back tequila until it knocks me on my ass. However, it's a short term moment with no reward. My degrees? That proves I was more than poor white trash." There is a moment of a fire in her eyes before she smiles adorably.

Then she looks towards Shawn. There might be an added look to his hands and she puts Joe between her hair and the man with spilly hands. "Heya Shawn." A look outside to that cold. The comment isn't even blinked at before she looks back to the man. "What is the proper degree to keep a body fresh in postmortum?"

Coffee collected, the off-duty cop snaps a lid on and moseys his way over to where Joe's seated. "You telling this story again?" he murmurs as he settles in beside the ex-pilot, phone shoved into his jeans pocket. Two fingers go to his forehead in a sort of lazy salute to Shawn, and Gabriella gets a murmured, "Hola," in greeting before his mouth's occupied with coffee.

The older man looks more than a little rueful at that question. "Oh, no," he says, gently. "Nothing like. Landing a plane on a carrier is much, much different than landing a plane at an airfield on solid ground. I mean, obviously I am biased, but....naval aviators are superior to our colleagues in the Air Force." He flicks a sidelong look at Ruiz, a glint of amusement in the blue eyes, before he confirms, "I sure did. I spent the last fifteen years of my career in NASA. I was still technically considered part of the Navy, but once you're in the astronaut corps, you're kind of off on your own thing so long as you stay in it."

That little flicker makes him cock his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Sounds like you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps, eh?"

Shawn's comment gets a twisted little grin. "I suppose it is about that cold," he agrees. "Though....is that often a concern here?" A beat, and he answers himself, "....probably way more often than I want it to be."

Javier's question is greeted with an innocent look. "Hey, someone who hasn't heard it before. Don't you be spoilin' my fun," he says, before he elbows the cop gently.

"The freezers are usually betwe3n 14 °F and -58 °F." Shawn replies quite promptly. This is normal information to know at the drop of a hat. He bends to begin to stuff the headphones into a shoulder bag. "People die all the time, not always for bad reasons. Sometimes it is just time!"

As per almost every interaction with the off-duty cop, Gabriella's lips curve up in something well Gabriella-esque. Then the spanish. Always with the spanish. "Solo hola ¿No cómo estás haciendo cosas calientes?" She winks to the man. It is so over the top that it can't be real, right? WAY over the top. Then her eyes study him. "Hear anything about the position?"

Joe gets a longer look. "We all do what we must to survive however we must. I don't fault anyone for what they need to do to survive." Then she smiles at him to that. "So what did you do for NASA, I mean as much as you can talk about?" Then she pouts at Javier. "Hey. Yeah. Don't hush his story. Look at him. Who wouldn't want a dish like this to talk to them all night long?" She leans in a bit more towards Joe. "All night because baby if you were into women I.. would stay right here with you where it is not cold." She winks to him too.

Shawn's declaration gets a momentary pause. A blink of lashes. A longer pause. "Negative fifty-eight... how could a pers--" She was about to say a person survive until her intellect clicks in. "So... what did you say you did again?"

"Just hello," de la Vega confirms; tone amused, husky-warm. "And like I told you when you asked before, I'm the one who makes the decisions on hiring. If I'd heard anything, it would've been from myself, yeah?" A beat, and a breath blown out his nose. "When do you want to stop by to talk about the position?"

His dark eyes flick back to Joe, and he barks a laugh. "What, the chair force? Yeah, I guess you guys are marginally, what did you call it, superior? Sure won't forget rescuing you out of that tree, though." He chuckles some more, and sips his coffee, watching the ME as he makes to depart.

"That's true," Joe agrees with Shawn, quietly. "You a moritician?" he wonders. "Work in forensics?" Javier gets a questioning look, like maybe the cop can vouch for this guy. One that only deepens at Gabriella's question, but he doesn't press.

"I was an astronaut," he says, bluntly. "Came in towards the end of the Shuttle era. Did two launches from Florida, and then a Soyuz launch from Kazakhstan while we were hitchin' rides from the Russians." Her compliment has him looking rueful. ".....what makes you think I'm not into women?" he asks, with a certain exaggerated mildness. Like he's struggling hard to keep his deadpan. Javier's gibe has him retorting, "Never gonna let me live that down, eh, baby?"

Things sweep RIGHT over Shawn's head as he focuses on Gabriella's question. "I am a medical examiner. The opposite of him," a nod at Joseph as he talks about being in the air. "My expertise is decidedly not flying."

Gabriella rolls her eyes up towards the ceiling as she thinks over Ruiz's question. "Really... anytime." She looks back to him. "I'm not doing a lot, but if it's still cold out, I'm not wearing a skirt. The last time I wore a dress, I think I fell on my ass on the ice." She's very graceful this one. Then Joe speaks. It might be hard for him to keep a straight face, but Gabriella looks horrified. Not just a little. Completely. She is full of horror. Full of it. "I.. I mean.. I guess I assumed.. I mean.. with Javier and.. I mean.." Look. She can't get her words out. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have just.. I'm so sorry. Did you wanna.. Should I offer to.. um.." Oh look a Shawn. Let's focus there. "Oh. Yeah. Um.. how did you get into liking dead things?" No serial killer vibe or nothing.

"Must be a tough job," Joe commiserates with Shawn. "Dealing with bodies after death. But then, I suppose you get used to it. I don't know that I'd ever be able to," he admits.

Gabriella's reaction makes his brows head for his hairline. "You assumed I was just gay," he says, simply. "No, the term you want here is 'bisexual'. Don't worry, you're not the only one. Do I wanna what?" The blond sailor doesn't look offended. If anything, he's having to work hard to hide his amusement at her discomfiture, feigning absorption in his drink and letting her dodge aside to question Shawn further.

"Dead people don't care if you theorize about how the moon landing is fake... oh, sorry about that -" Shawn as he stands and belatedly realizes this is the wrong audience for that. "I'm pretty sure it isn't- ah... yeah, see you!"

The big man is out the door asap after that.

Gabriella stares at Joe. Then she turns red. It's not a slight color. She is pale, so very pale and that color is now very very red. "It was good seeing you again, Shawn." A breath is taken in and then she smiles to try to look like she has control over this. "I was going to say, I mean did you want to.." She can't do it. She is trying to channel her overly flirtatious nature. "I um.. I mean." She's not selling this. A vibrant smile. "I was going to say, I mean maybe we should go out and do things.." Yeah she's just failed at this.

Javier's phone goes off, and, grumbling, he goes to answer it. Not that Gabriella's sudden and inevitable discomfiture isn't of great amusement to him. Because it is. He observes her interaction with the other blond as he clambers to his feet and meanders off a few paces. "De la Vega," he speaks into his phone briskly. Then, "Yeah. No, of fucking course not.." And the rest, mumbled more quietly.

Definitely not the audience for this, by the way Joe rounds on Shawn. There's genuine displeasure on the older man's long face, and he takes a deep breath like he's about to launch into a lecture on the subject.

But then he lets it out, before looking back to Gabriella. Puzzled, now, like he's not sure what she's reaching for. "Do things like what?" A glance after Javier, a wordless request for help from the cop....and Javier, of course, is not helping at all. So Joe's left peering at Gabriella expectantly.

Gabriella is very quiet. Surely this is where it ends. Not with fire, not with ice. It just ends. She is quiet for a longer moment. Perhaps she's just going to get up and leave. Sadly, sadly that is not what destiny and fate had in store for her. There is a deep breath as she looks at Javier too when he walks away. There is a clear saving that he does by blowing her off. Now, she's just left with Joe.

A hand comes up to run through her hair. Scoot. Scoot. Scoot. The chair is brought SO CLOSE to Joe as she leans in with that 'Imma flirt you up' look. "I mean we could do very adult things." Her voice even drops to a husky whisper. "Like.. taxes.. or sex. Or sex taxes." Yes, right here is the 'game' she doesn't have. "You know like.. what's your sign or your condom size." She leans in a bit more and then...
ANG!!

"FUCK!"

Gabriella's chair gives out from her leaning and shoots sideways as she shoots to the floor. This becomes even more of an issue as she falls and flails, hitting her drink. Which then because fate is not her friend and is indeed a fickle bitch, causes her to knock into Joe's drink. Which means all the syrupy goodness of both their chai lattes combine like Captain Planet. However, they form a mess. Just a mess.

To Javier's great entertainment, he hasn't walked so far away that he can't observe this disaster in all its glory as it unfolds. Which he most certainly does. In fact, he's pretty much on his way back, by the time Gabriella's asking about condom sizes, meaning that he winds up taking some splatter damage from the combined power of their sugary monstrosities colliding and exploding.

"I think your technique needs work, chica," he informs Gabriella, wiping some of the mess from his beard, and flicking it off his fingers.

Now he's sure she's making it a joke....and Joe's grin is amused, but not malicious. "Well, if you were twenty-five years older or I was twenty-five years younger, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to resist," he tells her, smiling.

Only for the smile to vanish when she overshoots and knocks over both drinks. Happily, they're knocked away from them, slopping over the edge of the table to splat on the floor. "Oh, damn," he says....but he's managed to escape save for a drop or two, and is mostly occupied with trying to help her up, first. Javier gets a pleading look. "Sugar, please ask 'em for some paper towels?" Because the napkins they have are totally inadequate to the tea Niagara in progress. "You okay?" he asks Gabriella, as he offers her a hand.

Gabriella is on the floor. A breath is pulled in and released. Pulled in and released. Pulled in and released. Then she takes Joe's hand to get to her feet. There is a pop of her hip as she does and she freezes. A rotation of her ankle. A wiggle of toes in that boot. Yep everything still works. "I mean, I think age doesn't matter. Considering I just fell pretty hard for you."

The cop's tonguetip's tucked against the inside of his cheek as he regards Gabriella, curiously, for a moment or two. But Joe seems to have things well in hand. "Seguro, bebe," he murmurs soft, backing off a step or two, then pivoting to fetch the paper towels as requested. Diplomatic he may not be, but raw charm sometimes works just as well; as it appears to on the pretty barista who immediately fetches him three-quarters of a roll.

He'll even get down on the floor and help clean it up. Who ever said the police don't serve and protect never spilled a chai latte.

"Good save," Joe acknowledges. "' least you didn't break that hip. And you might think age doesn't matter, but I know better...." Satisfied she's not seriously injured, he shrugs out of his coat entirely and crouches down to help Javier clean things up. One of the other baristas is already heading into the back to return with a yellow plastic WET FLOOR sign, and a mop. Then it's just for the unfortunate coffee drinkers to get out of her way.

Gabriella tips her head. "Why is age a thing of matter?" As every young person says about age just being a number. Until the aches. The pains. The sheer tiredness. There is a pause and then she helps to clean it up too. Her eyes slide over towards Javier too. She'll include him in the age question. Then she looks back towards Joe. It's more academic why it matters than hey pick me. There is a feel none of the flirtation was sincere.

Is she really going to solicit Javier's opinion on this one?

"We've been over this," he mumbles, pushing back to his feet, and letting the staff take things over from here. He doesn't have Joe's limp, but he's certainly got a few aches and pains of his own from his time in service; and the combined assault of the Veil and police work in a town like this.

"Not sure if it's an age thing, or a maturity thing, but a woman who knows her own mind and doesn't play games about what she wants is hot." He resettles into his chair, and reaches for his own, hopefully unmolested coffee. "That's what I look for in someone. Some guys want someone fucked up because it makes them feel tougher. More fucking power to them."

"Maturity. Life experience. That may sound like a line, but it's true. I mean, honestly, what would I talk to a twenty-five year old about? Most people in their twenties don't really know who they are, they're still too close to adolescence. To that whole 'me me me' thing.....and that only seems to be getting worse in our culture," Joe's matter of fact, as he also gets out of the way of staff. Clearly considering ordering another drink, by the way he glances at the menu board.

"Yeah. I don't have a lot of respect for some older guy with his little trophy girlfriend. I did my shallow fucking around in my twenties. No urge to revisit it," he says, simply. "I got what I want now." The look he levels at Javier - it's not loving or sweet. There's something almost cruel in it.

Gabriella considers. This is academic. "Okay. I can see maturity of life experience and knowing what one wants." She's really talking about this like one might debate politics or a belief system. Her green eyes wander towards the menu as well and then over the men. That thought is clear in her mind, but she sighs and then sits at the table.

"We are composed of what creates us and also what we choose to show. A person is never one-sided, they are dual sided. Sometimes even more complex than that. A person can be twenty three. They can own a paid off car, a house, they are on a fast track to a career they love and want. They know who they are and they know the struggle to get there because they have struggled. Another person can be fifty, not hold a job for more than two weeks, blames everyone else for their issues and problems, always looking for the quick fix and not the maturity to see through life and get through life. So I will give points to maturity but not just age. I think that one has to figure out what they have gone through."

Her lips quirk a bit. "Like I'm very well aware that I'm broken. Shattered in some places. It allows me to construct what I want the world around me to see and perceive. Now is this the real me? Probably not. However, there is a reason that the persona presented has been cultivated to be presented. I might not know it on a subconscious level. Or I might have very deep understanding of it. I'm not sure that's an age thing but more like a way of life in the moment. Mine is most likely a trauma response."

Yep, she's just talking about this like the weather. Nothing to see here. "Just like how I perceive the two of you together or separately, might not be the honesty of the person you actually are. It's all composed of perceptions and how I intrpret them. How my life path has created bias to see what it wants to fill in what it is not given or it does not know. Our brains want to fill the gaps that are missint because it's illogical to it. However, we can only fill it with insights we have had or not had. This then takes on the form of the saying the path to hell is paved with the best of intentions. It's because our intent is not to be malicious, but we are basing it less on fact and more on the abstract of conclusion that our bias and perception has determined."

To be fair, at least some of that fucking around in their twenties, they did together. The Mexican's quiet for a time, inked thumb skimming the lid of his cup while Joe speaks. His eyes slink toward the older man with his last words; no smile, his expression's hooded, circumspect.

Then Gabriella's going off on a monologue, and he furrows his brows a little, and downs some more coffee as he absorbs it. "You think you're the only one who's broken in this godforsaken town, chica? Try fucking finding someone who isn't. This place is like fucking catnip to people like us." He turns his gaze away, watching out the window a moment. "But you show people a fake, an illusion enough times, it's like that boy crying wolf. You know that story? They get to the point they won't trust you anymore. Broken or not. So I call bullshit on your fucking excuses."

"It's true that some people don't learn from their life experiences. They stay stuck at whatever age, in terms of mental and emotional maturity," Joe concedes. "There are people in their twenties who have struggled into full adulthood. But generally speaking, a relationship with an age divide of several decades is not going to work...."

He settles back down on the bench, for the moment. "What's the point?" he wonders, mildly. "Of spending all your time hiding behind that constructed persona? If you're good enough to make someone believe what you want them to believe, what does it ultimately get you? I mean, you're a trained psychologist. Presumably that grants you more insight into others and yourself than the average woman your age enjoys."

A pause, and he says, softly, "This place does call the broken."

Gabriella turns her eyes towards Javier. "Oh, no. I have never said I was the only one broken. I am not that entitled that I think that I have that down as the only one. Everyone has their own share of traumas and hardships in their lives. One shouldn't ever compare that because most times it's personal and less a tally sheet of fucked upness. I have seen many broken people. It is just not polite to use another person as an example, so I used myself in the situation. As well.." She tips her head as if fascinated for some reason by the cop. "... I'm not giving you excuses. I am not sure why you keep thinking that I am. The idea of excuses first deems that I owe you an answer and to that, I do not. So there is no reason to make an excuse. In this town?" There is a tip of her head. "Everyone already has the people that they trust. I have already accepted that I am never going to be one of those people. Though I am rather curious why you take every opportunity you have to point out tat I am not special or that I am not trusted? Do you think I am walking around with a misconception on either?" Her blonde brows lift.

Then she smiles at Joe and nods her head. "Oh, I'm not saying it's going to work. I'm more just curious on why you think it's not going to work. Also.." Her lips curve to something of a humored smile. "I never said I was a good psychologist. I think most relationships with gaps don't work for the same reason they don't work without the gap. It's the fact that they don't have much in common. You must have a commonality to your beliefs and your wants and your choices. Most people in younger years.." She points to herself. ".. are still in the selfish period. The period of life discovery as you will. They are preoccupied on how it feels. How it makes them feel. Whereas others in an older years.." She looks between them but does not voice it. ".. have moved past it. They are clear and concise. They have different cultures and learning patterns. They were shaped by different things in life. For example, people who can tell you where they were when JFK was shot, or 9-11 happened or other such things that we define ourselves by. Wars, conflicts that might not be shared across the generational gap."

Wuhoh she got talking it's probably why she doesn't do this often. "The point?" There is a lowering of her brows as if she's not sure. Or perhaps not sure to admit. "Because then you reject my persona and not my person. When you decide you don't like me, it's not me. When you decide I have no value to you, it's not me. WHen you leave.." She pauses and then offers, ".. you are not leaving me."

The cop scoffs quietly, dark eyes flicking back to Gabriella. "That's also bullshit," he murmurs to her, leaning in close for a moment. "I don't like very many people." He tips his coffee cup toward her slightly, holding her gaze. "I don't trust very many people. You want to be on that list, you can start by being someone I can trust." Then he drops back in his seat, and finishes off his coffee, glancing at the time on his watch.

The blond spreads his hands. "That's been my observation about May-December relationships. Goals and approaches and worldview are generally too different."

A moment, and he adds, "But if you never shed the mask, then there's no chance to be loved and wanted for who you are. Trust is earned....and if you start off offering that false face to begin with, it can't be. It's so much easier to lose trust than to gain it. Might want to rethink you're approach, it doesn't seem to be doing much for you." His tone is mild.

Gabriella looks between the two and shakes her head a bit. "I am not certain what at this point you think is bullshit." Then she smiles at them and comes easily to her feet. "Perhaps you are right. However, cards have been dealt and played as they are. Thank you though, for letting me know how much of a failure I am in this realm. If you will both excuse me. I have a grandmother to get back to." She nods her head before wrapping all the outer clothing around her. Because... baby it's cold outside.

Javier needn't be a powerful empath to have a sense for what might be going through her head right now. But he is, and he knows better than to try to stop her from leaving. There's a tic of muscle in his jaw as he watches the younger woman rise. He turns and pitches his empty cup into the garbage. "Not what I said," he murmurs low. "Pero te veré más tarde."

There's a long, wordless look from Joe to Javier, at that. "Have a good night," he wishes her, before sighing. Then he's gathering his own gear - thrashing his way back into his wool coat first, reknotting the scarf. Even though it's not all that far a walk to his apartment.

The wordless look's returned with a slight moue from Javier. He rifles his fingers through his hair, sighs, and pushes off his seat with his palm against the table. "You, uh, want me to walk you home?" he murmurs, attempting a little smile for the blond.

"Of course I do," Joe says, as if it really were a matter of course. "C'mon, let's go." He hasn't even put his gloves back on, but he's pushing at the door already.