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hmm.

[ stories about sabrina's town, huh. he wants to hear those. he's trying not to sound too eager, but, well, he is, and he starts replying before sabrina's even finished sending her texts. hopefully he just looks - you know - eager in that way most teenage boys would be, if a girl wanted to come see his bedroom. instead of eager the way a shark might be if it smelled blood in the water. ]

i'm just talking to you! i'd love to hang out.

[ though - fuck. he can't really invite sabrina back to his house, can he? part of his powers cause a physical effect on places where he stays for too long; the sky above his house is painted a deep, blood red, there's a huge murder of crows worshipping him, flying above in long, slow circles. the snakes, the goats. the rain made of blood. he can blame it on the people he lives with, most of the time - the vampires, the demon - but sabrina might be suspicious enough of him as it is, so.

somewhere neutral. ]

do you like diners? like, um.
ones with... milkshakes, cherry pies. things like that.
there's a pretty nice one in heropa i like going to, sometimes. we could meet there, if you feel like it.

[ She was hoping he would be eager enough to invite her over, but perhaps he's shyer than she thought.

Which also goes against everything she experienced from that night, if it was Michael in that suit, having her believe she was going to be murdered for no particular reason. He was much different then; confident, insistent...

Maybe she's wrong, but she would prefer to err on the side of caution regardless. ]

absolutely!
a cherry pie with a chocolate milkshake sounds good about now
send me the address and I'll be there

okay, cool.
thennnnnnnn itttttttt's a date.

[ michael chews on his bottom lip, waiting a few seconds for a reply. ultimately, he's too shy to read whatever might come back, so after sending off the diner's address, he quickly shoves his phone into his back pocket with a slightly warm face. this is going to be a good day, he thinks. shy or not, michael's still aware that a neutral, public place might make it harder for sabrina to ask him anything personal he doesn't want to answer. she won't be able to yell at him the way she did in nonah, at least.

he wonders if the cat will be there.

a trip through the porter and a few blocks' walk will take sabrina down to a quiet corner of heropa, where the diner michael directed her to will be waiting. it's a pretty cute place; all pink countertops and teal seats, the booths and the stools at the bar all lain on top of black and white check flooring. michael's already waiting in a booth at the far corner of the diner when sabrina arrives, his chin on the heel of his palm, his elbow on the counter he's sitting at.

he lights up when he sees sabrina. beams at her like he's never been so excited to see someone. there's a waitress that's been waiting on him, some middle-aged woman with hair that curls too tightly, and he very gently tugs the corner of her apron with two fingers to keep her attention so he can finish ordering. cherry pie, chocolate milkshake. she leaves, calls him Angel as she goes and laughs like she's known him for a while now, and michael starts hurriedly cleaning the counter of any crumbs with his sleeves, like he wants to impress sabrina with the best and cleanest dining experience she's ever had. ]

Um, hey. Hold on, let me just...

[ clean, clean. he smiles when he's done, pulling the long sleeves of his t-shirt over both of his hands before lacing his fingers together and holding them between his knees. ]

Hi.

[ Luckily for Michael Sabrina doesn't fire off another message as she doesn't see it as necessary. Instead, she rummages around her closet for a cute outfit; something disarming so Michael won't assume the worst when he sees her. She picks a blue turtleneck and brown corduroy skirt, slipping her black headband on.

Salem isn't around when she leaves the house. Good. He doesn't need to know.

When she arrives at the diner, Sabrina is actually genuinely impressed by the set-up and how Michael's picked it out. It is honestly the kind of place she would enjoy hanging out in with friends, making new and fun memories in for as long as she's here, but when she looks to Michael, all she can remember is the dread she felt that night in the dark streets of Nonah and how close her only family here had come close to death.

She's got her signature red coat on, keeping it buttoned up fully in spite of the warm Florida weather.

It's almost off-putting how Michael greets her. He's so jovial, so... innocent in his demeanor. It's not at all how she imagined this would go, so the joke's on her for a moment because she finds herself momentarily disarmed by the greeting. ]

Hey. Thanks for meeting up with me on such short notice.

[ She grins, sliding into the opposite end of the booth. At the very least they're afforded some privacy. ]

Do you come here often?

[ Sabrina thanks Michael for coming up with him, and he just laughs, softly dipping his head. He still seems sort of shy - he's actually never had lunch with a friend before, if you can call cherry pies and chocolate milkshakes shared with a girl he tried to fuuucking murder "lunch with a friend" - so he's a bit overwhelmed, not sure where to look. Happy. Agitated, still. Angry, in a directionless, vicious sort of way. Still very happy, however contradictory that might be. ]

Psshhh. You're way too young and pretty to ask a question like that. That's the kind of thing creepy old men say at bars to women waaay out of their league.

[ He flashes a smile, all bright white teeth, an affectionate shine in bright, blue eyes. Michael scratches the back of his neck, looks at Sabrina through the curtain of blond curls, then shifts in his seat and rests his fingers on the edge of the table. Kinda fidgety. He's not sure if he's excited about hanging out with someone he likes, or if he's just thrilled by the anticipation of a fight. He doesn't know if there's tension in the air or just - eagerness to be friends. ]

But, um - yeah, I guess. The lady who works here is really nice to me, and she reminds me of my mom. I don't really like the food, but I like her? So.

[ Does that make sense, or does that just make him sound pathetic? Michael laughs, kind of self-deprecating, like he realizes he must sound pretty fucking dorky. He shakes his head, hanging his neck down, idly watching the waitress put their orders in from the corner of his eye. Giddy - that's the word. That's how Michael's feeling. ]

Oh - and - [ Michael lifts his head, eyes wide, then starts fussing with his pocket, trying to grab his wallet as quickly as he can. ] I'll totally pay for whatever you want to eat? Or drink. Or anything else. I feel bad for making you come all this way, so.

Aw, you're so sweet.

[ She beams brightly, her stomach churning with slight disgust at the same time. It's enough to nearly ruin her appetite, but if she's lucky she won't need to actually eat anything.

She folds her legs neatly, never once reaching for the buttons on her coat. If she's warm, she doesn't show it, seemingly unfazed by the Floridian heat.

It's not difficult to see how fidgety Michael is and Sabrina is tempted to play into that persona just to see how uncomfortable she can make him, but at the same time, a part of her wants to cut to the chase.

Not yet, however. The waitress is still nearby and she isn't eager to draw attention to them. ]

Are you sure? I don't mind splitting the bill. This place isn't expensive, is it?

[ Sabrina calls him sweet, and again, Michael looks genuinely very touched. Happy, almost. Sickeningly happy. ]

It's...

[ It's not not expensive, but Michael doesn't exactly spend any of the money he's earned. No friends to go out with, no material goods that he wants. Hell, he stole the mask on the suit he terrorized Sabrina in from his dad. The boy's rolling in it, at least... as much as 16 year old dudes can roll in money they've accrued from a working a job they hate.

The waitress ducks out of sight, heading back to the kitchen. They're alone, at least for a moment. Michael doesn't notice. ]

I mean, I don't really... I don't get to go out with friends very often, so. I can afford it.

[ Sabrina's eyes follow the waitress, keeping a lookout on that door that swings behind her until the shadow is had disappeared. She wonders if she has some time now before the waitress returns, looking back at Michael and shifting closer -- as much as the table between them will allow her anyway. ]

Why is that? I mean, why don't you go out with friends often?

[ She glances over at the door again, uncertainty on her face.

She might have to chance it.

Sabrina lifts a hand discreetly underneath the table, swinging a finger so that the latch on the kitchen door turns itself, proceeding to lock to keep the waitress away even longer. She doesn't want her anywhere near, just in case. ]

What do you do for fun when you're alone?

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