“In context.”
“Very helpful.”
He tries the third, pauses, then nods once. “This is acceptable.”
“High praise. The brewery should frame that.”
Food follows: fried vegetable spirals, spicy dumplings, roasted meat skewers for him, and a towering basket of salt-crusted fries that I insist we share. He says he does not understand the appeal of fries until I make him dip one in the sweet-heat sauce. Then he silently eats twelve with the focus of a man discovering a new tactical resource.
“I knew it,” I say.
“Knew what?”
“You like fries.”
“They are efficient.”
“They are absolutely not efficient. They are joy sticks.”
“That phrase is already used for game controls.”
“I stand by it.”
Once the first layer of nerves fades, the date turns strangely easy. Not because Kauss becomes smooth. He does not. He is still Kauss, severe and literal and unintentionally funny in ways that should not be so devastating. But he listens. Really listens. When I tell him about sneaking into old Halo movie nights as a kid, he asks what films I liked. When I describe my grandmother teaching me to knead dough by saying bread can smell fear, he asks whether she meant it literally. When I talk about Garrett for two brief, careful sentences, his face goes still, but he does not interrupt, does not pity, does not snarl. He only says, “He was unworthy of what you offered.”
It is such a clean sentence. So simple. So free of the messy self-blame I have been carrying like a hidden bruise.
I have to look down at my drink.
“Thank you,” I say.
“He stole more than jewelry.”
My throat tightens. “Yes.”
Kauss’s voice goes quieter. “You still offer kindness.”
“I try.”
“That is not weakness.”
I look up at him. “I’m still figuring that out.”
His gaze holds mine across the table, dark and intent and warm in the dim bar light. “I have no doubt you will.”
We play games after dinner because I insist and because Kauss has clearly never been dragged through arcade nonsense by a woman in a blue dress with a mild buzz and a competitive streak. The first game is a grav-ball target challenge where players slap floating spheres into moving rings. Kauss refuses at first because he says his strength makes competition unfair.
“You’re afraid I’ll beat you,” I say.
He looks down at me. “No.”
“That was too fast. Definitely fear.”
“I can launch the spheres through the machine.”
“Then don’t.”
“Machines are expensive.”
