Ethan's so easy to talk to, so interested in what she has to say. He draws her out about her childhood in California. "We all had this rather romantic notion of California when I was an adolescent," he tells her. "We were certain every spare moment was spent on a surfboard, all the women were blonde beauties in bikinis -- the whole prepackaged vision."
"Not that blonde, not that beachy," Dawn says. "Not that I didn't curse fate for denying me my rightful blonde hair. The town I grew up in, though, I don't think it was different from that many other small towns. I'm probably a disappointment as your interpreter of the California experience."
"You're not disappointing in the least." No one else has ever favored her with a smile like he bestows on her now. It acknowledges some bond between them, recognizes something in her that no one's ever taken the trouble to see before. Kindred.
Still she withholds the information that she's from Sunnydale. It complicates her story, brings an element into it that she doesn't want clouding things between them just yet. Besides, what he's avid for is the kind of thing that could have happened anywhere. Small adventures and heartbreaks, the smell of the living room crowded with the biggest Christmas tree her father could find, the glories of the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich -- though the name of it makes him shudder.
"I think we're getting into some pot and kettle name-calling here," Dawn says. "Because I happen to know your people eat yeast smeared on bread, and excuse me for being forthright, but ick."
His delighted laughter rings out over the sound of the espresso machine and makes the heat rise in her cheeks.
"And the jelly thing, that's just semantics," she goes on. "You're thinking of what we call Jell-O. Think jam."
He's still dubious and she wonders whether there's a way to offer to make him the perfect PBJ without sounding all come up to my place with a subtext that's way too Lolita. While she's contemplating, her phone flutters its tune for general callers. "I'm sorry," Dawn says. "I won't be a minute." She flips the phone open. "Hello?" She gushes apologies and promises to meet her caller in ten minutes, then snaps the phone shut. "Shit." She starts gathering her things.
"What is it?"
"I do this volunteer gig. English conversation for an overseas student, so she can practice, get corrected nicely, that kind of thing. I completely spaced." What's worse, if she's late to her weekly appointment with Jin-Kyong, she's completely missed her class that comes before. "Can I leave my stuff here for a second? I'm gonna hit the ladies."
"What have the ladies ever done to you?"
In her frantic state it takes her a moment to process this, but it's just enough to derail her panic. She grins. "I just don't like the look of 'em. Be right back."
When she returns she slips on her coat and winds her scarf around her neck. "Sorry to run off like this."
"Clearly I kept you far later than you meant to stay. My apologies for being so careless with your time."
"There is no need to apologize for that, I loved every minute." She hovers there a moment, wishing he'd take her hand again. "Well. See you."
"You will indeed." The deliciously insinuating tone of his voice makes her want to drop back into the chair right now and forget about English conversation.
Pushing back the temptation, Dawn knocks back the last of her triple shot latte and pushes out into the cold wind.