And he can't not notice. Even the scraped-out shell he is sees Ren's distress; the smile falls off his face. He leans in, visibly worried as he never would have been. "Ren, what's wrong?"
He reaches for the carafe. "Here, let me take that. Sit down. We can sit in a booth. Come on."
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He reaches for the carafe. "Here, let me take that. Sit down. We can sit in a booth. Come on."