"Let's eat, first. Will we have time for a little guided tour while things are being set up tomorrow?" 

Counter-wards she tugs him, and she leans over it to see what kind of space there is before sliding her duffle and backpack underneath it. 

There's plenty of space!  It's a glorified receptionist's desk, with tons of space for a duffel.  There are computers and very comfy office chairs galore, along with various office accoutrements like post-its, pens, a rubber-band gun and two tablets.  Perhaps Sara might catch a glimpse of the heavy-duty security door from this perspective, perhaps not.

She trusts her things will be safe enough beneath the counter without inquiring after the security door. In they go! 

That done, she straightens again and nods happily at him, "What foods are there nearby?" 

"Well, there's this really nice - " Thai place.  "Er.  Scuse me, tickle in my throat.  Ah."  Tim clears his throat repeatedly.  Get your self together.  "Pizza place nearby.  It's good for guiding because you don't need forks and knives to eat pizza.  It's owned by this really sweet couple from the old country, I don't know where the old country is, exactly, because the accent is so thick.  But they're really nice."  An old lyric pops into Tim's mind, unbidden: If you smile at me, I will understand.  That is something everybody everywhere does in the same language.

"Pizza sounds nice, actually. Filling and customizable! Just a moment," she lets go of him briefly to dig a knitted red hat out of her pocket, which she pulls over her head. "There, all ready. Let's go see if I can identify their accent?" 

Mmmmm, guiding.  Sara can probably tell that this is going to take A While of just handholding.  Tim swallows a yawn and hip-bumps the door open, scooching left so let Sara past.  "Is that your handiwork?"  Inquisitive chin-tilt at the headgear.

Well, she brought shorts and a midriff-baring top for tomorrow, so at least there will be more skin contact then. 

"Mhm," she adjusts her hat slightly as she waits for him to lock up, "It's the same yarn as the sweater I wore at the mixer. I brought the orange yarn for you, too," she adds, and that's actually in her purse so she shakes it a bit. 

"Um."  You knew this was going to happen, Tim.  Will you please stop with the 'um's and say something.  "I'm - looking forward to it."  Augh.  You sound like you're some corporate slob.  "Wearing it, I mean."  You'd think it would take me a little less time to get used to an actual partnership.  Wait, she's not even a real partnership.  This is just getting used to each other.  For five days.  Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.  Anyone nearby who happens to see Tim's left hand will see him counting off the days on his fingers.  Augh.  I'm so grateful she got the hotel, five days with a complete stranger is.  A lot.

...She raises an eyebrow at him, "You know, you can say no, Tim. It's okay if you don't want a hat." 

"No, I just - I could use a hat.  And yours is - cozy.  I'm just.  Not used to that kind of thing, really?"  Well, not since shut up.  "Y'know."  I sincerely hope you know because I don't actually know.

"...gifts? Gifts from friends? A gift from a friend she made herself?" 

It sounds so stupid when she says it out loud but here I am I guess???  "Er.  Yes?  Not, never.  But."

Handsqueeze! "Okay. I'm not sure how to help. I like making hats and I like to see them on people, keeping them warm. Making your favourite colour makes it feel special- oh," she stops them for a moment so she can actually dig the yarn out. 

It's a more dull orange, sort of autumnal, or burnt, rather than anything close to traffic light neon. "Is this okay? I thought too dim would be better than too bright." 

"No, it's - it's good.  I do better if I have a plan, right?  And I don't."  Augh.  "I don't plan to get gifts, because - that would be."  Taking up space?  "Arrogant?"  Timothy Bartholomew Delgado is not an introspective man by nature, but if you ask him a question he's willing to answer he will do his level best to do it.  "It would be - " special?  Too cringe.  "Um.  Nice to have something you made.  For me.  And a hat, because, well." 

Timothy retrieves his hand long enough to grab his jacket and pull.  It streeeeeeeeeeetches like Lycra on steroids. 

"It's inspired by some dungeon material, I forget the name.  But I can't wear regular clothes if I want to use my power.  You know how they say, 'don't stretch in jeans, you'll break the button'?  It's like that, but for everything.  So, a hat would be nice.  No muscle groups in your head, you know?  I'd be pretty, um, upset if you took the time to make me something and I broke it because."  Because you're a clumsy idiot.

"Oh." 

Hugging him feels like a lot, but she is going to wrap both her arms around his and squeeze. 

"Okay. The yarn I picked is still soft, but a strong um... Spin?"

She sighs. 

"The hair is long and strong, so it is more durable. Of course you could break it, but it will last longer, I hope. If you do tear it, though, I can fix it," maybe that will be reassuring, some? "I could even put decoration on it, if it breaks. Leaves, maybe." 

Oh.  Well.  This isn't quite.  Expected.  "No, I - a hat is fine, I've never torn a hat in my life."  You should hug her back, you idiot.  A three-month old reflex springs to life, and Tim's hand finds the small of Sara's back.  "And if I somehow manage it, I'll bring it back to you.  Okay?"

"Yes," he can have a totally uncovered smile, and then she will return to her former position so they can keep moving pizzawards. 

Okay.  I got through it.  It's fine.  Tim feels a mixture of relief and emotional tiredness anything after tap-dancing through that particular conversational minefield and will just hold hands guide Sara to a little pizzeria.

Sara will observe the architecture! So many lovely 19th century New England buildings, and the abundance trees leaves one feeling they are in the middle of the forest, despite the asphalt and road. It's beautiful here. 

It really is.  And look, it's a lovely little restaurant!  The accent is indeed thick - how is Sara at identifying Mediterranean accents?  A smiling middle-aged couple would like to know, presumably along with her order. 

She is not terribly good at Mediterranean accents! Oh well, the origins of the nice middle-aged couple may continue to be a mystery. 

She would like- actually, now she's here, she would really like a nice Margherita pizza? Earlier she'd been thinking something more Western, but now she's craving something more simple and clean. 

Do they make personal pan size, or will she be taking some of this home?

They do make personal pan size!  Tim is going to order a large Greek, with extra feta.  And some handholding on the side?

Yep! While they're waiting she will even take off her other glove and they can hold both hands. 

Whoah.  Doubled efficiency!  Along with an incredibly dirty leer, courtesy of one of the owners, from over Sara's shoulder.