"No... No, you're not everybody else, Logan. You're... Special. But..." I'm so afraid..., she thinks.
"But... There are so many things... That you don't know about me. And if you knew..." You'd run. Run far and hard and fast. Just like Scott...
"It's not just what I think, Logan. It's what everyone thinks. Trust me, I'm a telepath, I know these things. People would see you with me, if I was like this, and they would pity you..." Jean looks down, studying her hands. "Do you know that Scott would only make love with the lights out? That he'd shove me out of bed early every morning to shower, to look perfect for the day? The first time he saw me without make-up, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. The Professor-" Her voice breaks for a moment, then she continues. "The Professor used to send me into town for a whole day to try to deal with my appearance problem. I mean, after all, why on earth would he want to sl-" Her jaw snaps shut, her eyes wide and firghtened. She'd slipped. Said too much. Gotten upset and started to tell him exactly what she'd wanted to hide from him the most. And he was not a stupid man. Far from it. She had about two seconds to turn and run as fast as she could, before he grabbed her. Held her there and asked all the wrong questions. Found out just how horrible she truly was. You're a sick girl, Jean. A dirty, nasty girl. A bad girl, who needs to be punished. Just the kind I like...
The memory kept her forzen for just a moment too long. She started to bolt from the room, but it was too late.
She's right, and he's up and to her before she can react, one hand going to grasp her by the wrist. Logan's voice is urgent and he's in a mild state of shock, the desire to hunt down Xavier and kill him, several times broils up in his blood and his eyes.
"You...he..."
She's a victim, His brain says. Like you were. She didn't want it and neither did you.
He looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. "My God, Jean," If I had only known...if I had...done...something.... He swallows and looks back at her, softening a little. It's not pity, but it's something that he'll only give her.
"I don't care what they think," He says, then reaches down and puts one of her hands on the side of his face. "Really, I don't." He reaches for her other hand and does break her gaze. He rests it on his shoulder for the time being. "I don't. I don't care. You..."
You matter.
He can't say it, but he can think it, and he knows she can read it in his eyes. She only has to move her hand...
Shame fills her eyes now that he knows the worst, and she casts her gaze down. "From when I was bout twelve to about... Nineteen... Scott doesn't know. He can never know. He respects Xavier. Like a father. It would destroy him to know."
Jean's voice is quiet, then gains strength as she continues to speak. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to think that I was..." Easy... Cheap... Dirty... A whore... "I didn't want you to know how easy I was. How cheap and dirty and... Despicable, I am. I was. For just giving in. For not fighting. For staying and being his... For not running away or doing anything other then what I did..." Her face is deathly pale, and her body is tensed. She's expecting him to turn her away, yell, slap her. Something. To lash out at her somehow. Which is why his reaction suprises her even more.
She doesn't realize that he's moved. Not until she feels his touch on her skin, his stubble against her palm. Then she meets his eyes. Let's his words flow over her and surround her with warmth. This one man, who can take everything that she's ever known or felt and turn it on it's head. "You... Don't care...?" Jean can feel the warmth of tears welling up, but she tries to blink them away. She can see what he's offering. "You want me to... To read your mind...? Are you... Are you serious...?"
Slowly she raises her other hand to his face, and allows her eyes to close. She releases her gift and opens their minds to each other. This is different from the first time. She can see into his mind, read his thoughts, hear the words that he can't say. See what he wants her to see.
But he can also see into her mind, see everything. Flashes of a tiny girl, curled up with big serious looking books. An older girl, maybe ten, caught in a whirlwind of other's thoughts and emotions. The same girl, gaunt with chalky skin curled up in the corner of a room in an insane asylum, her mind filled with the thoughts of the insane, drowning out her own thoughts. Same girl, released from the asylum, a man in a wheelchair at her side, his eyes filled with a darker emotion. The gawky pre-teen with carroty hair being called into a dark paneled office. The mans words cutting into her, "I've helped you, my dear. Now you must help me... If you tell a single soul, I'll have you sent back to the asylum faster then you would ever believe possible...". Logan can see the tears and the pain, the hatred and the terror. He can also see the younger Scott, his shining presence, his adoration for the man she feared. College aged Jean, with constant demands on her time. The criticism. At family gatherings. Back at the Academy. The lonliness, the secrets hidden from the man she loved. The joy of embracing death because it would all end. She could rest. The pain of resurrection. The professor arranging her short stay in an asylum as soon as she was back, then the rounds with the psychiatrist that he referred her. Coming home, praying desperately for open arms to welcome her back. Finding that not only did Scott cheat on her with Emma when she was alive, but that he was staying with her. She was more perfect then Jean. The breakdown, the spell, the wish, the other world where everyone's faults were exaggerated. Her return. Self-loathing. Self-hatred. The desire to inflict pain, to hurt herself. The disgust at her eflection. Every flaw. The stream of names that she calls herself every day. Tramp, tease, trick, whore, slut... And her laying awake every night. Waiting for his nightmares. Slipping inside his mind to push the dreams away, to replace them with a kinder dream. Her waking from a deep sleep, because she sensed his suffering. Like sleeping with a mental eye or ear open. Her fear that he would see her as she sees herself, push her away, hurt her, use her because she would let him then cast her away. Hate her. Every reason for every mystifying act that Jean Grey had ever made was suddenly laid bare before him. She had exposed her soul to the man standing before her.
Gently, slowly, she broke the contact, and stood there, watching him. Waiting for what he would say. What he would do. Now that he knew everything...
Logan doesn't know what to say for a moment. Just blinks as she removes her hands from the sides of his face, his mind stunned into a silence. He doesn't know what to say, because there's so much.
Anger. The urge to find Xavier and make him pay. The blood in his body is practically humming with his emotions, his eyes dark, the animal in him is screaming to be let free. He forces it to settle, and he can feel it in his stomach, angry and ruthless. Angry with Scott. Emma not so much, but her as well.
Frustration. The desire to do something, anything, anything at all to make this right, even though deep down he knows nothing can fix this. All he can do to her is prove that she's wrong. But will she give him the chance? To fix things?
Confusion. Why didn't she tell him? How did he miss the signs? Why did he trust the man as much as he did? The Professor had never been one of his favorite people to begin with, much too optimistic about things...but this...he should have seen...
And then there was the bit about him. And his nightmares. Was that shame he felt, somewhere deep down? Fear? Loss of trust and privacy? He's not sure but he doesn't like it, then at the same time, he does, because someone with her powers, her abilities, gives a shit about him.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times. Looks away, looks back, looks away again. "I...Jean." It's a rare moment when he's the one who can't find words to express what he's feeling, but it's here and it's now.
A swallow. His mouth feels dry. He can hear his heart pounding in his head, blood rushing through his ears, everything on high alert. He shakes his head. "I...you're not...you didn't deserve...any of that."
Jean just watches him, not saying a word. The silence stretches until he finally breaks it. At his words, he can see the tears well up in her eyes again. Then she's moving, practically falling forward against him. She buries her face against his chest and cries. Once again, her tears are silent. He can feel the warmth and wetness spreading, and feel her body trembling against his.
She stays there for a long time, crying in his arms. Finally she pulls back, not far, just a little ways. Reaching up, she wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands and pushes her hair back from her face. And then she does something that completely suprises him. She smiles.
"How would you feel about maybe getting out of here for a little while? We could go somewhere. Maybe, get breakfast? Does that sound okay?"
Jean smiles again, another of her dazzling hundred watt smiles. And it's all for him. "Alright. That'd be... Wonderful."
She turns to walk out of the room, then stops, look back at him over her shoulder. "Ten minutes. Or less. I promise." With another smile, she sprints out of the room and up the stairs, into her room. She quickly brushes the knots out of her hair until it's lying flat, then starts to pull it back, but instead leaves it loose. Jean also decides to forego her customary pancake make-up for the first time in her adult life, revealing the band of freckles across her nose. She hurries into the bedroom, and strips out of what she was wearing. She pulls both bra and panties, then stops. After a moment of thought, she goes to her closet and pulls out the box of clothes that Scott and the Professor both couldn't stand for her to wear. She dressed in a semi-low cut babydoll t-shirt with white clouds on a blue sky, and a low cut pair of worn blue jeans, leaving a good expanse of her midsection bare. She checks the clock again, before dragging on a pair of blue socks clouds and a matching pair of light blue sneakers. Grabbing a denim backpack purse out of the box, she quickly dumps the contents of her usual purse into it, grabs her cell phone and sprints out of the room and down to the garage. It took her nine minutes.
Jean practically skids to a stop before him, breath coming fast, and natural color in her cheeks. "Okay. I'm ready."
Logan's laughing when she comes running down to him. This is a shock in itself, because he's never seen her dress like this. Ever. He's amused. And a little turned on, but that's a private thought that he won't be sharing anytime soon.
"Well, well." He drawls. He's dressed in what he's always dressed in, worn blue jeans, a t-shirt, black of course, and then a dark red button down over that. He's left it unbuttoned, and his denim jacket over that. He likes layers.
"You'll freeze to death in that," He quips, before reaching for the bike and his leather jacket, tossing it in her general direction. "Wear this. Don't want to explain frostbite and the gas missing out of the tank, now do we?"
Jean plants her hands on her hips and mock glares at him. "And what the hell are you kaughing at, Mr. Dark And Brooding?"
She lets her eyes run down him, then back up, then back down. Several times. Just stepping into the same room with him turns her on, and she's sure that he can smell it on her, but at the moment she doesn't care. He just looks... Good enough to eat, a mental voice whispers, and she quickly hushes it. Even though it's right.
She catches the jacket with a suprised look. She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes as she slips the jacket on, taking a private moment to just breathe in his scent. "Frost bite? Where on earth are we going for breakfast, Logan?" Her voice has an endearing confused tone to it as she obidiently follows him over to the bike.
She's right. He can smell it on her, and he just glances over her, then walks to the door of the garage and presses the button on the wall, letting it roll open.
Logan walks back over and fires up the engine as he slides on, waiting for her to climb on behind him, and he rolls his eyes when she settles her hands on his hips. "Slim never took you out, huh?" He reaches back and pulls her forwards, locking her arms around his middle and her thighs against his. "Hold on tight."
Then he looks over his shoulder and grins. Again, wild and feral.
"We're going out." He says simply, before he revs the engine and they're off.
Jean slides onto the bike behind him, enjoying the feel of his body pressed so closely to hers. She can also feel her lust simmering, but she chooses to ignore it for the time being and just enjoy the ride. Her arms wrap tightly around his waist, pressing her breasts against his back. "Define out and I'll tell you if Scott ever took me there."
At the sight of his grin, she finds herself grinning back. There's something just infectious about his good humor. She could never resist it.
Jean clings tightly, having never ridden on am otorcycle before. She has to shout to be hear over the wind whipping past them. "Logan! Where exactly are we going?"
"You said you wanted to see up North." Logan says, calling back to her. "So I'm gonna take you. Just relax and hang on, Red."
She doesn't really have a choice in the matter, as he guns the engine and the rush of the wind flies past them. He'd slow down if she wanted him too, but to make good time, he wants to go faster.
Breakfast? There would be time for breakfast when the sun came up. Which it does, a few hours later, when they're in Vermont. He pulls off in some sleepy little town and parks the bike outside of a diner, turning around to look at her. And her hair. He grins.
"Hell, Red, you should've brought yourself a rubber band. Though I'll admit...I like the wild side of you."
Once she knows their intended destination, Jean does indeed relax. And quickly finds herself enjoying the ride. "Scott never let me ride on his bike with him. This is my first time on a motorcycle. I love it!"
She stumbles slightly after she climbs off the bike, unused to walking. "This place is adorable! But... Where exactly are we?"
A teasing smile gaces her lips. "Watch and learn, Logan." She slings her bag onto the seat of the motorcycle and rummages for a moment. She prodeces a hairbrush, and combs all the tangles from the wind out of her long flaming locks. Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder, replaces the brush, and looks up at him "Okay. Ready to go. Come on, I'm starving."
"Pancakes." Logan says simply. "This is Vermont. They make good pancakes. And good syrup."
The things you learn when you're 'out'.
He lets her walk in front of him, but holds the door open for her as she steps inside. It's warm, which is a welcome reprieve from the morning chill. They get shown to a booth and a woman comes over to offer them coffee.
"Okay. Pancakes it is." She walks ahead of him, towards the restaurant, needing a moment where she wasn't face to face with his blatant sexuality to regain her calm.
Jean slides into the booth across from Logan, allowing her to study him over the top of the menu. When the waitress appears to offer them coffee, Jean is so elated that she almost hugs the woman. She restrains herself to a heartfelt thank you, and proceeds to add cream and sugar to her coffee before draining the cup. When the waitress returns to take their orders, and refill their coffees, Jean closes her menu. "Blueberry pancakes, a side of bacon and a side of sausage, and a three egg ham and cheese omlette. Oh, and an english muffin. Thank you." She turns to see the odd look on Logan's face. "What? I told you I was hungry..."
Logan just shakes his head, an amused little smirk on his face. "Never said a word, Jean, never said a word."
He's amused, but he closes his menu and orders himself. Regular pancakes, with a side of bacon, hashbrowns, and two eggs sunny side up. And toast. Not as much as her, but still plenty. The waitress takes the menus and then wanders off, probably to go tell the staff about the ravenous couple in the booth by the window.
He looks out the window and then back to his coffee, which is black, and takes a sip. "So," He says. "Anything in particular you want to see?"
"But... There are so many things... That you don't know about me. And if you knew..." You'd run. Run far and hard and fast. Just like Scott...
"It's not just what I think, Logan. It's what everyone thinks. Trust me, I'm a telepath, I know these things. People would see you with me, if I was like this, and they would pity you..." Jean looks down, studying her hands. "Do you know that Scott would only make love with the lights out? That he'd shove me out of bed early every morning to shower, to look perfect for the day? The first time he saw me without make-up, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. The Professor-" Her voice breaks for a moment, then she continues. "The Professor used to send me into town for a whole day to try to deal with my appearance problem. I mean, after all, why on earth would he want to sl-" Her jaw snaps shut, her eyes wide and firghtened. She'd slipped. Said too much. Gotten upset and started to tell him exactly what she'd wanted to hide from him the most. And he was not a stupid man. Far from it. She had about two seconds to turn and run as fast as she could, before he grabbed her. Held her there and asked all the wrong questions. Found out just how horrible she truly was. You're a sick girl, Jean. A dirty, nasty girl. A bad girl, who needs to be punished. Just the kind I like...
The memory kept her forzen for just a moment too long. She started to bolt from the room, but it was too late.
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She's right, and he's up and to her before she can react, one hand going to grasp her by the wrist. Logan's voice is urgent and he's in a mild state of shock, the desire to hunt down Xavier and kill him, several times broils up in his blood and his eyes.
"You...he..."
She's a victim, His brain says. Like you were. She didn't want it and neither did you.
He looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. "My God, Jean," If I had only known...if I had...done...something.... He swallows and looks back at her, softening a little. It's not pity, but it's something that he'll only give her.
"I don't care what they think," He says, then reaches down and puts one of her hands on the side of his face. "Really, I don't." He reaches for her other hand and does break her gaze. He rests it on his shoulder for the time being. "I don't. I don't care. You..."
You matter.
He can't say it, but he can think it, and he knows she can read it in his eyes. She only has to move her hand...
"See for yourself, Red." He whispers.
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Jean's voice is quiet, then gains strength as she continues to speak. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to think that I was..." Easy... Cheap... Dirty... A whore... "I didn't want you to know how easy I was. How cheap and dirty and... Despicable, I am. I was. For just giving in. For not fighting. For staying and being his... For not running away or doing anything other then what I did..." Her face is deathly pale, and her body is tensed. She's expecting him to turn her away, yell, slap her. Something. To lash out at her somehow. Which is why his reaction suprises her even more.
She doesn't realize that he's moved. Not until she feels his touch on her skin, his stubble against her palm. Then she meets his eyes. Let's his words flow over her and surround her with warmth. This one man, who can take everything that she's ever known or felt and turn it on it's head. "You... Don't care...?" Jean can feel the warmth of tears welling up, but she tries to blink them away. She can see what he's offering. "You want me to... To read your mind...? Are you... Are you serious...?"
Slowly she raises her other hand to his face, and allows her eyes to close. She releases her gift and opens their minds to each other. This is different from the first time. She can see into his mind, read his thoughts, hear the words that he can't say. See what he wants her to see.
But he can also see into her mind, see everything. Flashes of a tiny girl, curled up with big serious looking books. An older girl, maybe ten, caught in a whirlwind of other's thoughts and emotions. The same girl, gaunt with chalky skin curled up in the corner of a room in an insane asylum, her mind filled with the thoughts of the insane, drowning out her own thoughts. Same girl, released from the asylum, a man in a wheelchair at her side, his eyes filled with a darker emotion. The gawky pre-teen with carroty hair being called into a dark paneled office. The mans words cutting into her, "I've helped you, my dear. Now you must help me... If you tell a single soul, I'll have you sent back to the asylum faster then you would ever believe possible...". Logan can see the tears and the pain, the hatred and the terror. He can also see the younger Scott, his shining presence, his adoration for the man she feared. College aged Jean, with constant demands on her time. The criticism. At family gatherings. Back at the Academy. The lonliness, the secrets hidden from the man she loved. The joy of embracing death because it would all end. She could rest. The pain of resurrection. The professor arranging her short stay in an asylum as soon as she was back, then the rounds with the psychiatrist that he referred her. Coming home, praying desperately for open arms to welcome her back. Finding that not only did Scott cheat on her with Emma when she was alive, but that he was staying with her. She was more perfect then Jean. The breakdown, the spell, the wish, the other world where everyone's faults were exaggerated. Her return. Self-loathing. Self-hatred. The desire to inflict pain, to hurt herself. The disgust at her eflection. Every flaw. The stream of names that she calls herself every day. Tramp, tease, trick, whore, slut... And her laying awake every night. Waiting for his nightmares. Slipping inside his mind to push the dreams away, to replace them with a kinder dream. Her waking from a deep sleep, because she sensed his suffering. Like sleeping with a mental eye or ear open. Her fear that he would see her as she sees herself, push her away, hurt her, use her because she would let him then cast her away. Hate her. Every reason for every mystifying act that Jean Grey had ever made was suddenly laid bare before him. She had exposed her soul to the man standing before her.
Gently, slowly, she broke the contact, and stood there, watching him. Waiting for what he would say. What he would do. Now that he knew everything...
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Anger. The urge to find Xavier and make him pay. The blood in his body is practically humming with his emotions, his eyes dark, the animal in him is screaming to be let free. He forces it to settle, and he can feel it in his stomach, angry and ruthless. Angry with Scott. Emma not so much, but her as well.
Frustration. The desire to do something, anything, anything at all to make this right, even though deep down he knows nothing can fix this. All he can do to her is prove that she's wrong. But will she give him the chance? To fix things?
Confusion. Why didn't she tell him? How did he miss the signs? Why did he trust the man as much as he did? The Professor had never been one of his favorite people to begin with, much too optimistic about things...but this...he should have seen...
And then there was the bit about him. And his nightmares. Was that shame he felt, somewhere deep down? Fear? Loss of trust and privacy? He's not sure but he doesn't like it, then at the same time, he does, because someone with her powers, her abilities, gives a shit about him.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times. Looks away, looks back, looks away again. "I...Jean." It's a rare moment when he's the one who can't find words to express what he's feeling, but it's here and it's now.
A swallow. His mouth feels dry. He can hear his heart pounding in his head, blood rushing through his ears, everything on high alert. He shakes his head. "I...you're not...you didn't deserve...any of that."
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She stays there for a long time, crying in his arms. Finally she pulls back, not far, just a little ways. Reaching up, she wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands and pushes her hair back from her face. And then she does something that completely suprises him. She smiles.
"How would you feel about maybe getting out of here for a little while? We could go somewhere. Maybe, get breakfast? Does that sound okay?"
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Rather early, for breakfast. Then again, if they go to breakfast in another state...
He grins. It's almost feral.
"Tell you what," He says quietly. "You and I go get dressed...and meet in the garage in say...ten minutes?"
Oh yes. He's planning on borrowing one of Scott's toys.
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She turns to walk out of the room, then stops, look back at him over her shoulder. "Ten minutes. Or less. I promise." With another smile, she sprints out of the room and up the stairs, into her room. She quickly brushes the knots out of her hair until it's lying flat, then starts to pull it back, but instead leaves it loose. Jean also decides to forego her customary pancake make-up for the first time in her adult life, revealing the band of freckles across her nose. She hurries into the bedroom, and strips out of what she was wearing. She pulls both bra and panties, then stops. After a moment of thought, she goes to her closet and pulls out the box of clothes that Scott and the Professor both couldn't stand for her to wear. She dressed in a semi-low cut babydoll t-shirt with white clouds on a blue sky, and a low cut pair of worn blue jeans, leaving a good expanse of her midsection bare. She checks the clock again, before dragging on a pair of blue socks clouds and a matching pair of light blue sneakers. Grabbing a denim backpack purse out of the box, she quickly dumps the contents of her usual purse into it, grabs her cell phone and sprints out of the room and down to the garage. It took her nine minutes.
Jean practically skids to a stop before him, breath coming fast, and natural color in her cheeks. "Okay. I'm ready."
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"Well, well." He drawls. He's dressed in what he's always dressed in, worn blue jeans, a t-shirt, black of course, and then a dark red button down over that. He's left it unbuttoned, and his denim jacket over that. He likes layers.
"You'll freeze to death in that," He quips, before reaching for the bike and his leather jacket, tossing it in her general direction. "Wear this. Don't want to explain frostbite and the gas missing out of the tank, now do we?"
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She lets her eyes run down him, then back up, then back down. Several times. Just stepping into the same room with him turns her on, and she's sure that he can smell it on her, but at the moment she doesn't care. He just looks... Good enough to eat, a mental voice whispers, and she quickly hushes it. Even though it's right.
She catches the jacket with a suprised look. She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes as she slips the jacket on, taking a private moment to just breathe in his scent. "Frost bite? Where on earth are we going for breakfast, Logan?" Her voice has an endearing confused tone to it as she obidiently follows him over to the bike.
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Logan walks back over and fires up the engine as he slides on, waiting for her to climb on behind him, and he rolls his eyes when she settles her hands on his hips. "Slim never took you out, huh?" He reaches back and pulls her forwards, locking her arms around his middle and her thighs against his. "Hold on tight."
Then he looks over his shoulder and grins. Again, wild and feral.
"We're going out." He says simply, before he revs the engine and they're off.
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At the sight of his grin, she finds herself grinning back. There's something just infectious about his good humor. She could never resist it.
Jean clings tightly, having never ridden on am otorcycle before. She has to shout to be hear over the wind whipping past them. "Logan! Where exactly are we going?"
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She doesn't really have a choice in the matter, as he guns the engine and the rush of the wind flies past them. He'd slow down if she wanted him too, but to make good time, he wants to go faster.
Breakfast? There would be time for breakfast when the sun came up. Which it does, a few hours later, when they're in Vermont. He pulls off in some sleepy little town and parks the bike outside of a diner, turning around to look at her. And her hair. He grins.
"Hell, Red, you should've brought yourself a rubber band. Though I'll admit...I like the wild side of you."
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She stumbles slightly after she climbs off the bike, unused to walking. "This place is adorable! But... Where exactly are we?"
A teasing smile gaces her lips. "Watch and learn, Logan." She slings her bag onto the seat of the motorcycle and rummages for a moment. She prodeces a hairbrush, and combs all the tangles from the wind out of her long flaming locks. Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder, replaces the brush, and looks up at him "Okay. Ready to go. Come on, I'm starving."
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The things you learn when you're 'out'.
He lets her walk in front of him, but holds the door open for her as she steps inside. It's warm, which is a welcome reprieve from the morning chill. They get shown to a booth and a woman comes over to offer them coffee.
He grins. Coffee is good.
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Jean slides into the booth across from Logan, allowing her to study him over the top of the menu. When the waitress appears to offer them coffee, Jean is so elated that she almost hugs the woman. She restrains herself to a heartfelt thank you, and proceeds to add cream and sugar to her coffee before draining the cup. When the waitress returns to take their orders, and refill their coffees, Jean closes her menu. "Blueberry pancakes, a side of bacon and a side of sausage, and a three egg ham and cheese omlette. Oh, and an english muffin. Thank you." She turns to see the odd look on Logan's face. "What? I told you I was hungry..."
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He's amused, but he closes his menu and orders himself. Regular pancakes, with a side of bacon, hashbrowns, and two eggs sunny side up. And toast. Not as much as her, but still plenty. The waitress takes the menus and then wanders off, probably to go tell the staff about the ravenous couple in the booth by the window.
He looks out the window and then back to his coffee, which is black, and takes a sip. "So," He says. "Anything in particular you want to see?"
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