Charlie nodded. He looked to the coffee shop with trepidation playing in his eyes, in his expression. He wasn't ready to face any sort of crowd.
He knew he should say something, tell his name at the very least, but words were hard for him, now.
He determined she wasn't a cop. He might have been a convict, but he was a cop too. First and foremost, he was a cop, still a cop. They couldn't beat that out of him, if they beat him every day. He knew another cop, when he saw one. She wasn't one.