From here to the VA building, it’s exactly eleven minutes at his normal pace. August does not know what the timing would be at a leisurely stroll: he’s never taken a stroll in his entire life, and even with his injured hip that day will never come (much to his physio’s dismay). That left him with an hour and… three minutes to kill. It’s the only reason he even goes into O’Donahues this early. He will be there later, some of the guys from the meeting like to grab drinks after. He will try to be there later.
The crowded bar has his hands buried further into his hoodie pocket. The relief of someone saying he can sit is indescribable (one less decision to make). Even better when he sees she looks familiar. It takes a second before he smiles, pulls a hand out to point at her.
“You live at Belcourt, don’t you?” A beat pauses, he shakes his head, “Sorry. I live there too, think I’ve seen you round. I’m August.” His hand disappears once more, not wanting to shake hands. August hooks the toe of his boot under the bar stool, dragging it back so he can sit himself down without touching it.
Tiffany is pretty flattered to be recognised. As a bit of a shrinking violet, she assumes most people look through her rather than at her, so the fact that he remembers her from passing in the corridors is nice. It’s a little passing thing that just makes her think, she can still have her own life. Be her own person, do her own things. It isn’t the things her parents hoped for her, but it could still happen.
For a mortifying second she thinks he’s going to try and shake her hand, and she’s going to have to do some really rapid work with a napkin because she’s got hot sauce all over her hands, but then his hands are back in his pockets. Thank god.
Nodding in response to his question, she says, “August--” (repeating a name always helps her remember it) “I’m Tiffany. Do you want a drink? We’re celebrating, um... consistency.”
That’s about the brightest slant she can put on rejection. At least the Hell Motel is familiar, she knows what she’s in for even if it’s nothing good. And it was good practice, like maybe she can get another interview somewhere else and it’ll be easier next time. She isn’t sure if it’s weird to ask if he wants a drink, but he’s sitting there anyway and Tiffany likes feeling not-alone. If he’d hoped to have a quiet moment of solitude he was going to be disappointed.
