Erik's eyes flickered to the movement of Billy's fingers at once, then settled down again. He checked his view of the door in the same moment, and was pleased, although he made no assumptions about the purposefulness of the behavior, that he still had a clear avenue of--what, escape? That wasn't exactly it, especially not since he was apparently meeting with a teenager, but some habits died hard, and some refused to die at all, especially not if they were cultivated and tended as carefully as Erik did the things that kept him alive.
"Curiosity," he said, dry as a desert. "I'd be worried, but I'm not a cat." The newspaper folded under the long, callused lines of his hands, neatly set on the table in front of him as he picked up his coffee with what might have been a trace of a smile. "Lose the hat, please."
He could get a decent read on the young man's face from here, but his own nearly arrayed hair was bare, and he didn't like the contrast.