[ it's difficult being in new york city sometimes, like he isn't entirely sure what to do with the familiarity. there's something disconcerting about wondering if he'll be recognized at his favorite cafes and bars, a steady anxiety that keeps his shoulders a little square while walking back to his hotel. he doesn't have a place in the city anymore, hasn't for a few years now. for some reason that's comforting.
he keeps his unease carefully hidden under the pressed lines of his suit, leaning back against the jacket he shed to fold over his chair. she had suggested killing time on broadway and he had declined staunchly, guiding them towards a nicer bistro far from the theater district, somewhere with coffee as good as the sandwiches.
though his plate goes largely untouched, he nods when the waitress comes to take it away, lifting his mug and his eyebrows as ariadne's finger traces over the map unfolded on the table, the paper uneconomical and drooping down the sides with it's enormous size. he sighs and wonders how many people in the world can be as bored with new york city as he is, wonders how the fuck he got so jaded.
he had promised: when you want to get out of the business, you'll get out. you'll start sleeping with academia again and as some reward for- graduation, a thesis, a legal job, whatever; for not ending up calloused or fucking crazy- i'll take you anywhere you want to go.
put your finger down on the map and we'll go. though he hadn't expected a paper map or for the decision making to be a literal ceremony process and he hides his grin behind his mug, watching her trace rivers with her index finger. ]
absolutely! not bugging me! don't leave me! (and i'm sorry this took literally forever)
he keeps his unease carefully hidden under the pressed lines of his suit, leaning back against the jacket he shed to fold over his chair. she had suggested killing time on broadway and he had declined staunchly, guiding them towards a nicer bistro far from the theater district, somewhere with coffee as good as the sandwiches.
though his plate goes largely untouched, he nods when the waitress comes to take it away, lifting his mug and his eyebrows as ariadne's finger traces over the map unfolded on the table, the paper uneconomical and drooping down the sides with it's enormous size. he sighs and wonders how many people in the world can be as bored with new york city as he is, wonders how the fuck he got so jaded.
he had promised: when you want to get out of the business, you'll get out. you'll start sleeping with academia again and as some reward for- graduation, a thesis, a legal job, whatever; for not ending up calloused or fucking crazy- i'll take you anywhere you want to go.
put your finger down on the map and we'll go. though he hadn't expected a paper map or for the decision making to be a literal ceremony process and he hides his grin behind his mug, watching her trace rivers with her index finger. ]
We could be across the globe by now.