[restaurant; ren & hannah]
Perhaps surprisingly, Ren found that he suspected that. Hannah was the person who knew the most about this blind date in the first place, maybe the person who knew the most that for all the easy demeanor mask he wore, he might want something more than that. He glanced up and for a heartbeat's blink and you'll miss it, his eyes carried the vulnerability of someone who had a lot more that he hadn't told and didn't plan on telling, but suspected sometime might be unfortunately published, and when that inevitably happened, he hoped that maybe there would be some people who would see the real him and be okay with it.
And then it was gone, and he smiled slightly, and took a sip of the wine then, putting it down and leaning forward slightly. "They're facts, not truths," he offered. "Like, they happened, and they are as you said, but they're not actually the truth of you. What your dreams are, or what makes you happy, or frustrated, or what you love. The facts support the truth, but they aren't the truth on their own. And maybe," he wrinkled up his nose as he considered this, not certain it was real, but not unconvinced of it yet either - a hypothesis that he could posit and explore. "Maybe the truth may bely the facts sometimes. But the facts always have to support the truth. I think. That last part could probably be taken apart and examined a little."
He reached for his fork, and grinned. "I've submitted scripts," he smirked, letting the statement linger for a moment, before looking up, eyes twinkling. "But I've never won anything. The Alps are cold, but this was lower down, and during the summer. Still frigid mind you, but it definitely happened. There was a boy - his parents had a cottage near a lake. It was all green things, and flowers, less snow and storm, and it was a dare, but mostly I wanted him to think I mattered." And there was the truth behind the fact. "Your reasoning was sound though," he admitted. "What about you?"