Reply to @unnervinglyminerva
A civilian? Val has nothing to say to that. He already understands she's on edge, and the last thing he intends to do is get the lights knocked out of him. Hands up in defeat, he just says, "Alright, love. Come back soon."
It leaves him alone at the table for a moment, which isn't fun for someone who craves attention and longs for companionship. Val listens though- always listening. There are rich people a few tables away, chattering about boring charity mission trips. Out to the Middle East and Africa, and Val can feel the bile in the back of his throat as they discuss it as if they're humanitarians. He's leaning himself back, thick curls hanging back. If one were to happen upon him, they might think he's staring up at the ornate and lovely ceiling.
Upon her return, she at least sounds slightly more amiable. Speaking more about the things she's hearing and the annoyance of the whole event. He's taking a long sip of a tequila sunrise and grinning. "What, y'don't like listening to old rich white people chat about all the reasons they're full-on saints for giving .001% of their money to a vague arts charity?" He chuckles. "Maybe the whole thing is a satire, yeah? Gods an' goddesses... talking about how people love to consider themselves holier than thou. Especially the ones with the money t'spend on this shit." He doesn't comment on how she snapped at him before. Better to let that rest.
