"I meant the town, not the diner," she muttered, sliding onto a stool beside him and grabbing at the cup the waitress placed in front of her. She fixed her coffee - four sugars, no milk - and was about to start drinking when his phone rang. Grinning, she looked at him.
"Nice ringtone," she commented, nodding her understanding as he said he had to take the call.
Any remnant of humour that the coffee and his ringtone had restored was gone just as soon as he said that name. She gasped softly, staring intently at her coffee cup. Of course he was still alive, he would be for years yet...and goddamnit why couldn't she stop wanting to cry?
She pushed away from the counter, running back outside. She dropped to her haunches by the kerb, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. This was not happening. This absolutely was not happening. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd said she wanted to hear his voice again, just once. And now she could...but he wouldn't have a damn clue who she was.
Standing up, she paced back and forth, caught somewhere between anger and grief.
"I don't care who's listening," she muttered, giving the sunny, cloudless sky the stink-eye. "but I want answers. Now. Haven't you fucked with my family enough? Or were we too goddamn HAPPY FOR YOU, WAS THAT IT?!!" She didn't notice that her voice was getting a little louder, that she probably looked like a crazy person. She really, really didn't care.