He is ten minutes late.
But, even as day crosses the street and approaches the doors of the establishment, he isn't rushing his steps.
At first, he had agreed for Travis to drive them there, but then he changed his mind about it.
If he was to survive a whole date, he needed to gather his nerves all the way there, hope to the gods he won't fall ill again or something and that's how he is now smiling at the host, as he takes his coat.
"I am meeting a Travis King," he says, as he adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
There is a mirror on the back of the host, and he checks his reflection in passing, as the host smiles, not even checking his name or the table before he leads him further in.
He fully expects the host to lead him to the main area, where he can see patrons already seated and dinning, soft murmurs across the dimly lit room, but he doesn't.
