"Very true," Lincoln chuckled along, lifting a hand to bury in his own loose curls, "Trying to get my hair to do anything but poof is an ordeal." He leaned forward on the table, "It's a struggle getting ready for any sort of formal event…not that I go to many of them," he added the last comment a bit softer from his thoughts.
Jack laughed softly. "Oh, I could get my hair to behave if I wanted to. I just don't." He shrugged, then raised an eyebrow. "Why not? If it's just because you don't like them…that I completely understand. They can be boring."
"Partly, yes, they are boring," Lincoln chortled. He looked off to the side at his question, wondering how much was socially acceptable to admit to a stranger. No, he wasn't a stranger, he was Jack. He looked back up. "Well, being biracial, I didn't get very many opportunities to 'fit in' in America, even after I moved in with my well-off grandparents. Nobody really…" he searched for the word, "…saw me the same? I don't know for sure. I think the people and their judgements were worse in America, but when I moved here with my father's inheritence to pay for college, I didn't have enough money to buy myself the status of aristocracy. Or the family history, even. So I don't get invited to many parties."
He spoke with a generally positive tone, omiting bits and pieces of his story he felt would make the mood more solemn, "I've just gotten used to being the outsider, and I've made peace with it."
"Oh. Oh." Jack said slowly, realization dawning in his eyes. "I'm sorry. That didn't even occur to me. I…didn't mean to offend you or anything. I'm sorry." His words tripped over each other a littler as he spoke, and he bit his lip, looking at Lincoln. "Sorry." He said again.
Lincoln shook his head, "No-no, it's, it's fine. I'm not offended," he attempted a reassuring smile, "I don't get to talk about it much, I think it helps—as long as you didn't mind hearing about it. I didn't mean to say so much.'
Jack smiled slightly. "Nah, don't worry about it. I dated somebody who was also biracial. Half Filipino, half black. He-er, she," he corrected himself, changing the gender of the person, since talking about a male romantic partner probably wasn't the best choice. "But they would talk about things like that sometimes. Anyway. All I'm saying is that I understand. Sort of. I guess. I don't mind." He gave an embarassed chuckle.
“Good, I appreciate it,” Lincoln exhaled with relief, but his mind trailed back to Jack and romantic relationships when he mentioned dating. He sat up a little straighter. Dated, past tense. That gave him some hope, but not quite enough. “Out of…pure curiosity..are you dating anyone now?” He bounced his knee, tapping the heel of the foot against the ground. “Not that it matters or anything, of course.”
Jack nodded. "Of course." He replied, then raised an eyebrow slightly. "Ah…no." he replied, shrugging a little. "Why? Setting me up with someone already?" He grinned, smirking for a moment.
“Ha! Yeah,” he crossed and uncrossed his ankles a few times. “There’s this girl I know, a Uh sister of one of my classmates. It seems like she would take a liking to you.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" He asked, looking at Lincoln and suppressing a laugh. "You're going to set me up with a girl?" He sounded slightly disbelieving.
Lincoln dipped his head with a tight-lipped smile, “Of course,” he drummed his fingers against the table. “Why wouldn’t I. You’re…” he trailed off and stood up out of his seat. “What kind of roast do you prefer for your coffee?”
(i gtg to bed. Good night!)
Jack raised his eyebrows slightly at that trail off. "Okay." He sighed softly. "Uhm…Medium." he replied. "Although I don't really care either way."
(Oke doke, Goodnight!)
“Medium it is,” he smiled easier this time, and turned on his heels to walk towards the coffee bar. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched while he thought.
Of course he didn’t plan on setting him up with a girl from his college, the girl didn’t even exist. But he had to come up with some sort of excuse for his odd question. Especially an excuse that didn’t suggest anything to anyone listening in on their conversation…
Jack stretched, leaning back in the chair and watching him go for a long moment. I wonder…all these questions, and… He sighed softly. Could he be…? No. Stop projecting what you want onto someone from the past. He told himself, shaking his head a little.
Lincoln swallowed to suppress his shaky breaths while he ordered the coffee.
Obviously, well he assumed that Jack was… like him. But it was all too complicated, would it even be worth confessing his attraction? And who was to say this attraction was anything more than physical at this point?
He chewed on the inside of his lower lip.
He ends up with a daughter, remember? Probably an illegitimate child with a girlfriend or something. Jack tore a hand through his hair, a few of the red strands fell into his face, curling slightly over his forehead.
Lincoln thanked the man behind the bar as he took the two steaming mugs by the handles. He took ginger steps back to Jack, avoiding eye contact by setting his gaze to watch his path. “Medium roast coffee for you,” he set the first mug down in front of Jack. At last, he glanced up to his face again and smiled. The curled strands over his forehead were too cute, he silently admired.
Jack smiled at him. "Thank you." He replied, noticing how Lincoln was avoiding looking at him, but didn't say a word about it. He took a sup, then sputtered. "Ouch! Hot hot hot hot hot!!" He exclaimed, sticking his tongue out.
Lincoln’s eyebrows raised with some concern, but his expression mixed with stifled humor, “Are you alright?” He sank down into his chair again, sitting forward, and keeping his first and third finger wrapped around the handle of his own mug. He didn’t dare to take a sip yet.
Jack nodded, tongue still hanging out of his mouth. "Fine." He replied, panting a little so that air would flow over the overheated sensors on his tongue. "Just burned my tongue." He pulled his tongue back in his mouth, making a face.
“Ouch,” he smiled empathetically. “Someone told me once that if you blow at the same time you’re tipping the mug, it will cool off before it burns you. It’s never worked for me, but you could try it.” He shrugged, picking up his own mug to lightly blow away the steam. It returned half a second later.
Jack nodded, and tried it. The air flowing over his tongue helped, as well. He chuckled softly, blowing on his drink almost hard enough to make it bubble over the side. He took a tiny sip, then set the cup back down. "Still too hot." he announced, looking at Lincoln.
“Not surprising,” Lincoln humore and set his mug on the table again. He glanced down, then back up again. “So, ah…do you have any ideas about what tools I’ll need to fix Tip?”
Jack chuckled softly, then sighed. "Uhm…good question. Pliers, blowtorch, uhm…mostly he just needs new parts." he shrugged a little. "I don't know." he raked a hand through his red hair, shaking his head slightly.
“Blowtorch…” he echoed slowly as of tasting the word. “I’ll have to see if the shop sells that sort of thing. It’s a very simple hardware shop, it’s more likely to have pliers than that expensive sort of thing .” He rubbed his hand against his chin in thought, “But I could be mistaken,” he shrugged.
(FYI I’ll be on a trip for a few days and won’t have wifi, so I probably won’t be able to be very active until about Wednesday)