James hadn't really dealt with many people. He'd spent almost every day of his life with the same people, and those very few people he could read very well. (Well. Maybe not Tony.) Everyone else was sort of still a mystery to him. Not that he wanted to admit it - but reading people or knowing what to say to them was just turning out to be something he maybe wasn't great at.
He especially didn't know what to do with the face his mother - maybe he shouldn't think of her like that, maybe she knew and it offended her? - had when she first saw him. She smiled after a minute, and he smiled back, but it felt awkward and stilted on his side. "Umm, okay," he said quickly, hand rubbing awkwardly across his arm, just for something to do.
He slid back into the booth once they had, eyes moving restlessly between them. He tried not to look like he was just soaking in the sight, but James didn't know if he managed. It was just ... they were alive. Like really alive. And young, and sitting with him in an un-ruined world.
It still kind of felt like a hallucination. (Not a dream, because he'd had those dreams, and in the dream, he was usually better at this.) "Umm," he said again. "It's really nice to meet you in person?" he offered.