|| waitingforelysion
It was such a nondescript cafe. Zoisite doubted that his intuition could ever lead him astray, but he thought it must have in this particular case. Nephrite had always had a certain flare in his own right. While he tended to leap from one short-lived role to the next without much care, Nephrite picked his carefully; usually just one, usually long-term, usually some flashy rich guy with a nice car and a secure-sounding job, usually not a busboy at a little known cafe in the city. Still, it looked like Nephrite, and his presence was like Nephrite's. He had the hardest time stifling a snicker just thinking about the possibility that the high-and-mighty general could have stooped to such a position, but, with some effort, he managed to remind himself that this was serious.
He had been thinking more than he had wanted to about what Usagi had proposed-- that there had to be some reason for his being here-- and if it really was his former ally waiting tables here, it only went to further the point. Had they all been called back? Was it really to do with the Prince? If so, would Nephrite know any more than he did? They were the sort of questions that gave him headaches, and, heaving a sigh, he wished that he wasn't obligated to find their answers.
He set the menu down on the table. The brunette was heading in his direction now, and he braced himself for the worst. If he was to recognise him, he supposed he could expect stabbing glares and scowls at the very least. After all, as he preferred not to remind himself, he had been the cause of his death and his little girlfriend's agony. He hardy expected a humane greeting of any kind.
Then again, forgive and forget, didn't they say? Surely there was a chance that dying convinced him to do at least one of those things.