He nods. 

"Do you want to talk about it, do you want to be distracted from it, do you just want it quiet…" 

“I don’t know,” he says, a little miserably—

“...do you have anywhere to be?”

"I don't," a little uncertain. 

“...Wellspring Roasters has amazing coffee. It’s just down the street.”

…what the fuck. 

"Okay," still uncertain. 

He looks like he’s about to speak,

and then he bites his tongue for a moment, and disappears behind the door for just a second.

He comes back with his hair loosely up with a pair of sunglasses folded in his hand.

“It’s easier to get out of this place with someone else.”

Okay, still what the fuck, but in a different way. 

"Makes sense," he says, and pretends he means the entire situation and not Gabriel's statement in particular. 

He flips the sunglasses neatly open and slides them on.

It takes a few conversations with assistants and other hangers-on before they actually get out of the building. Apparently Sasha is going to be discussing design particulars with him.

He does and says nothing to contradict this and mostly does and says nothing at all. 

The cold hits him hard when they step out the door. He stops and shivers.

“...I’m still not used to dressing for New York.”

"I know what you think of layering, but," and he's not sure what was going to come after the but. "Are we actually going to a coffee place or are we going somewhere else?" 

“Layering is fine—is there somewhere you’d rather be? I just need to walk.”

And I wanted to go somewhere with you where someone won’t walk in at any moment. Not that they won’t be seen, anywhere they go.

"Coffee place is fine, I'm just surprised you'd want to be seen with me in public." He matches Gabriel's pace. 

“Wh—”

Oh.

Right. That.

“It wasn’t you,” he says, despite this getting across very few of his feelings on the matter.

"Still. Not what they should be seeing."

"I've met designers who just didn't care how they looked. It's – different."

He's pretty sure Gabriel knows what his deal is, which is sort of nice — it means he won't have to explain, if nothing else — but deeply uncomfortable to think about. 

"...I guess." 

He holds the door to the coffee shop for Gabriel. 

He sweeps in like he's used to it – pauses – reaches behind him to keep it open until Sasha's inside as well.

"...it's frustrating when beautiful people don't see it."

Sasha could dispute being beautiful. Apparently, though, that's frustrating. He finds them a table with two empty chairs.

"...We were going to talk about something?" 

He's suddenly incapable of looking Sasha in the eye.

"...you met...Apollo," he manages, and his voice doesn't break even once.

He nods carefully. 

"That makes — a number of things make more sense. 

How many people's names have I been getting wrong?" 

He takes off his sunglasses, folds them with one flick of is hand and sets them on the table.

“...you seem fine with this,” he says, a little suspiciously.