"I was going to order a whiskey sour, but if that reads too 'redneck misogynist' to you, then I'll take whatever says 'secretly a millionaire.'" He hesitated briefly, and then slid in across from her, shoving his duffle under the table.
The walk had been comfortable, no forced awkward conversation or unwelcome assumptions. Here they were now, two friends, out for a drink - except that they didn't know anything about each other, he realized. Did they? Not that it mattered.
With a bit of effort, he managed to slip out of his jacket and let it rest behind him. "So, if you don't mind my asking, what do you do when you're not riding buses and staring at leaves?"