[Maybe if they delay long enough, the problem will solve itself, he thinks. But that's too far even for him; he looks away. Then he smiles at the cognition and orders another two coffees, much larger, before eventually looking back at Crow.
Fuck, Crow can probably see what he's thinking. He frowns, reticent and defensive.]
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Fuck, Crow can probably see what he's thinking. He frowns, reticent and defensive.]
I could talk to him. [With a gun, preferably.]