"Baby, what ya thinking."
He missed her look of annoyance, but he sensed it in his own way. And even if he had somehow evaded the fact that Molly was growing tired of his current attitude, it was very quickly illustrated by the uncharacteristic shift in tone… and the grab at his hand. The conventional pet name was a ruse, a show, and his breath caught in uneasy defiance as squeeze that probably looked reassuring to anyone who was bored enough to be watching them… wasn’t. He could feel his knuckles grind together for a moment. An uncomfortable reminder that he needed to focus and that she wasn’t going to tolerate his emotional bullshit.
Hours earlier she’d seen fit to be genuinely comforting, but this gesture was entirely different than that. And her words, while a misdirect, struck him as a pointed finger at his wavering attention. What he was thinking was not what he needed to be thinking right now.
He rumbled a sigh and mustered a decidedly wan smile, but only when he felt he had the attention of the waiter more than the barest of degree. The nice thing about wait staff was they weren’t paid nearly well enough to get involved in the personal distresses of their customers.
"What can I get you folks today? Any drinks to start you off?”
"Corellian Whiskey, neat, on the rocks."
A glance thrown his way, Cameron spoke up with a, “Make that two,” that made it clear, at least to Molly, that he had not really made any decision whatsoever until that exact moment.
"I'll get those in for you. Would you like to hear our specials?"
"Sure. I'm having such a hard time picking something."
"We have a thin sliced and braised grain-fed organic shautal [...]"
"Yum! Sounds delicious. That for me."
Though it wasn’t exactly the first time he’d seen it, having Molly fall into her (unexpectedly) convincing fake cheery-and-not-too-bright tone unsettled him a little more. There was just something about knowing she was capable of behaving in a way that would have struck others as normal… and yet knowing that wasn’t her at all. It was like she had a knife under the table and was just luring the unsuspecting man in.
Though no such thing was going to happen--or so Cameron dared to assume--the strange threat was there. Molly was inescapably dangerous, and far from the dopey sweet face she put on now. The smile hid the flat expression of her false eyes well. It would be easy for the unsuspecting to be duped.
He was ever grateful to be on her side, and silently reminded himself that he should probably keep her favor. It was difficult, though, when he really didn’t want to be here.
"An excellent choice, and for sir?"
“The stew plate, please,” he said, his own answer short and easy, no show to be made. It was a reversal of their actual roles. Had this been their more natural dynamic, she would have been the one looking slightly put out and he would have been the one throwing agreeable noises at the waiter. He handed off the menu without looking at the man, and all vestiges of a smile dropped away.
Thankfully, real people were allowed to have bad days. No one would question it.
"You need to stop bringing me here."
His own gaze had gone across the thoroughfare as well, but it slipped back to her as she spoke now, knowing the most suspicious thing they could possibly do was stare at the building in question. “Someplace a little more interesting next time,” he said, meaning it. If he saw Corellia--and specifically Coronet--any time soon after this, it would be far too soon. He needed a long break from the place he’d been born. It felt like a such a mockery sometimes. It kept rattling him.
Logically he knew he couldn’t blame the planet, but the association was undeniable. Corellia was home, in a way, but it failed to be any comfort. Maybe there was some metaphor in that.
Attention again going outside, his eyes idly trailed a couple of dark suited men as they went down the street, but they went past the building in question and kept going, so he soon lost interest.
“Where would you rather have gone?” he dared to ask in the following moments, the appearance of conversation difficult to maintain when his brain wanted to dwell.