Michael rests a hand on Lee’s back when she starts fidgeting. It’ll be fine. They’re fine. He doesn’t want her to worry about that stuff right now. He wishes she didn’t have to worry at all. It’s such bullshit.
“That’s incredible,” Gabby says, awed into a quieter mood. “It’s inspiring, you know? Like maybe we could all have that someday. Don’t you think, guys?” She looks at her other two friends.
Sinclair, already finished with his first drink now, is looking down at the tabletop like there’s a memory hidden just beyond the dingy wood. He blinks when Gabby addresses him, but only responds with a distracted frown and a scrub of his face with his hand. Gabriel, finally distracted from Michael and Lee, turns to him with concern written all over her face. “Hey, Clair, what’s wrong?” she asks gently, placing a hand on his arm. He shakes his head.
“Nothing. I’m not—“ He takes a breath, then scoots his chair back and stands up. “I’m fine. Just gimme a minute.”
Before anyone can stop him, he’s walked off. Michael turns in time to see him go out the door. Afterward he’s just barely visible as he leans against the side of the building and lights up a cigarette. Gabby’s frowning, something Michael’s not sure he’s ever witnessed. “Goddammit,” she says.