A little of column A and a lot of column B.

Blake's inability to control his emotional effect on a collaborative liminal space isn't helping him. That isn't to say that she'd needed it, but the instantaneous effect of everything outside The Gas Station is impossible to miss for someone familiar with those kinds of mechanics. Her words had landed far more accurate than she'd meant them to. Astute. Maybe too astute.

Or maybe that meant his people were good people. They understood and upheld his right to be those things and respected whatever happened to be hung up behind it. It's lucky if he has.

But it's far more than coffee and candy and customer depth, and she doesn't say anything to his retreating away to the coffee. Not as he goes, not while he's back over there, and not once he returns. Sabine lets her face stay pleasantly polite, circumspect of any suspicion or triumph, like she might have missed the entire flash-dire retreat from her or the changing weather outside the glass windows.

"Nice to meet you, too, Blake. Have a good rest of your day."