TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

2: Pigeon Hierarchy

The cafe was busy. Busy enough for people to disregard the two of them sitting together, but calm enough for them to carry out civilised conversation without having to shout. Perfect.

On spotting Saoirse at the counter, presumably buying a drink, Timothée grinned to himself, sidling into a free booth and resting his hands on the wooden tabletop. He then leaned back in his seat, foot tapping against the floor in mock impatience. Saoirse spotted him as soon as he turned around, and narrowed her eyes into slits.

Timothée couldn't help the grin on his face as she weaved her way in between tables towards him, drinks in hand.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" he asked smugly, glancing at his wrist. Unfortunately, the illusion of checking his watch was rendered useless as Timothée remembered he'd forgotten to put a watch on this morning. The boy frowned.

"You're not even wearing a watch," Saoirse replied flatly, setting a cup down on the table in front of him with probably a little more force than necessary.

"Nice way to greet someone you haven't seen in a month," Timothée remarked, taking a sip of coffee and promptly gagging as the drink burnt his tongue.

Saoirse snorted. "Yeah, well. You don't deserve niceties."

Timmy bit the inside of his cheek, kissing his teeth. He looked as if he was about to say something, before he quickly shut his mouth. He let out an elongated breath.

"Yeah, you know what, you're probably right," he chuckled, defeated. "So how's the new project going? What's it called? Amm- Ant-"

"You were closer the first time."

"Ammonia?"

"Ammonite," Saoirse corrected, laughing. She launched into a bright and dynamic bubble of chatter, gesticulating wildly. Timothée couldn't help but be captivated by the story, and watched intently as it unfolded. He was mildly aware of a phone pointed in their general direction, but couldn't bring himself to tear away his gaze. It was different when he was with Saoirse. More comfortable.

The boy relaxed, slouching into his seat and interjecting at various intervals. By the time they'd decided they'd had enough, and that Timothée had made one too many references to that night out which they'd both tactfully agreed to forget, it was late afternoon, and the chatter within the cafe had subsided to a quiet murmur. Timmy paid for their long-since-finished drinks - "That's so you don't set my statistics rap as your ringtone." - and the two began a walk along the streets of Manhattan.

"So anything new going on with you, then, Timmy?" Saoirse asked him. "Planning anything exciting?"

Timothée squinted in the general direction of the sun, face turned up to the sky as he let the warm rays soak into his skin.

"Haven't really thought about it, to be honest," he contemplated, looking over at her quickly. "I mean, work's kind of at a standstill. Since press finished, nothing's really come up yet," he frowned.

"Really?" Saoirse pressed lightly. He sounded troubled. "I thought you had that new project-"

"Filming doesn't start for two months," Timothée explained.

Two whole months.

Saoirse picked up immediately on his tone - they'd been friends for years at this point, and it didn't take much for her to detect a change in mood.