He hums in agreement. "You know that's why I hate the fucking media. You think any of the juries actually heed the judge's warning to not talk about it, to not read anything? If we were eligible for jury duty, do you think you would? Actually don't answer that, I already know. Law-abiding, upstanding citizen." He prattles off, not letting up a beat, even for a breath. He's prone to tangents, especially in the company of other lawyers. It's par for the course, lawyers don't actually have lives otherwise. At least, he doesn't — apart from the general maintenance of self. There's vibrant lives in the books he reads for fun though.
"Not you, your colleague. The one I hate." Which could be anyone, really, and he knows that — stated all droll with a wry quirk of his mouth. The prospect of a vacation warms quick when he thinks that it would be in her company. When he thinks about it deeply, he doesn't know a single person who has as close a friendship with the opposite sex, as him and Andrea. Unless they were gay. Which he's not, not exclusively anyways. Eetu's heard his fair share of comments about their relationship, kind jests from their mutual friends, scumbag remarks from his clients when she's prosecuting and he says he went to school with her.
He takes it as a challenge. "We should go. I'm serious. Let's go. And I'm not being impulsive since you won't probably won't even be able to get time off until like what, end of May? June? Really overworking you there." Eetu admonishes, and he actually does mean it sincerely, because it's a pain scheduling adjournments when every prosecutor is playing Tetris with their schedules.
His brows jump with amusement at the idea of Andrea the mindreader, though his expression settles just as quickly, when she says what she does. It makes his heart twist, fond and then some. A little uncomfortable, like he's not sure what to do with the information except let it linger. He leans back against the couch, his ramrod straight posture faltering. A cushion hugged against his chest as he considers. "Yeah. I mean, yeah. I think some of that trueness must come from the fact that we've never dated. I don't know. I just know if anything happened between us —-" He wouldn't be able to come back from it? "Well, I don't know." Is the honest answer.
But he thinks he wants to, be the person that gives her faith, because he has this severe need to give her everything she asks for, because he, like, probably — no, does, love her. "Let's go on vacation." He insists again. Just them. In the plane, on the beach, in the king-sized bed of the five-star hotel. "You won't have time to think about the dating pool in New York when you're five mimosas in." All they'll have to focus on is each other.