Most people, when directed to sit somewhere, would logically either choose the floor or the counter. Maybe they'd stand instead, and politely wait for Lexi to make coffee.
Jasper had other ideas. He crawled under the counter and wedged himself into the tight space, taking relief in the relative darkness that was a whole lot easier on his eyes. He didn't really want toast at all, but he had the feeling that she'd make it whether or not he wanted it. People like that disturbed him.
"Three sugars," he called, wondering if he had his cigarettes on him. "And Southern Comfort." That was what had been missing from his last coffee.
Oh yeah, he'd promised to tell a complete stranger why he was miserable. Jasper wasn't sure if that was a great idea - maybe he'd wait until he had his coffee. And after that, he could try to figure out why said complete stranger was trying to take care of him.