#**chat

There were more boxes of cereal he’d ever had, pop tarts of varied flavors, and different types of bread just waiting to be picked. Whole-wheat, grain, he’d even splurged on bagels, as if to ensure she had the best buffet experience for any upcoming morning -- of however many mornings she would still spend in town. Keeping his nerves pretty evident on his face, he grabbed both mugs of coffee and sat down beside his daughter, blowing softly on the top of his drink. Hoping to make the moment last longer. “Did you sleep alright? You’re looking a bit pale. Which, I know is rich coming from me, but. Maybe I can tell better from personal experience.” What had happened at the ball had been... a tragedy, for sure, one he would’ve liked to have kept her out of. He was beginning to realize one could never be ready for anything when it came to their town, however. There was nothing to do but hope it hadn’t affected her in a deeper level.

“I’ve been told, on numerous opportunities, that this is the chosen place for a good brew,” Neal commented, his tone of voice casual as he chose one of the few open seats by the bar, gaze curiously taking in the ambiance of the shop itself before glancing sideways at the nearby patrons. “Though I do have to admit it’s not one of my particular specialties, so I’ll have to rely on what tastes good to me out of what’s recommended.” The corners of his lips tilted up, still, his face the pure picture of innocence. “Could I trouble you for whatever’s the favorite that is currently on tap?”

Fingers drumming almost absently on the bartop, unable to keep himself sitting still for too long, Neal’s eyes were naturally drawn yet again to those in the vicinity. His body stiffening somewhat as his mouth went dry, gaze sharpening into focus. Was this a type of curse they found themselves under, or some weird attempt of Greek fates of correcting what kept being broken time and time again? “Bring me two of them, actually,” he corrected his own order, eyes focused on Bash - pricking with enough force so as to make the other turn around. Look at him in return.

“Excuse me,” he spoke, belatedly, his gaze falling instantly on that of the other man. “I’ve recently become aware of -- of your nature. I would like to do business with you.”

“You don’t have to -,” the boy insisted, a beat too late before Robin was already paying their way for two bracelets, one of his father’s arms almost awkwardly placed around him to steer him further inside, into the livelier part of the fair. The booths caught both their attention, Robin’s head tilting in an inquisitive manner that his younger child could only mirror. “Hoops?” he suggested, the initial reserve gone, small smile on his own lips as he looked up, quickly choosing a prize they could both try to win.

Robin was just a tad bit slower than his son, of course, having had to pause to let a larger group go through, and only looked ahead to find himself staring at both his children in front of the booth, unable to hear or completely read either of their expressions. Ah. He should’ve probably texted Ava when he found Wren loitering outside his house, shouldn’t he?

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