Taylor's diner seemed standard, despite Thorne saying that it was prime example of American culture. Though, Cress supposed that she didn't really have enough experience to give an opinion.
"Carswell!" Cress swiveled toward the voice to see Thorne shaking hands enthusiastically with who appeared to be an employee. His name tag said Taylor- the owner, then, or someone related. He talked louder than necessary, but it was with a warm tone and a friendly smile.
"Thorne." The Captain corrected with a grin. "It's been a while." A conversation of pleasantries followed- Taylor had, apparently, gone to flight school with Thorne, and was now in the process of adopting his first child. Cress eventually took Thorne's hand again, and the movement caused his friend to turn his joyful greetings toward her. "Right, sorry- this is Cress. My girlfriend."
"My condolences." Taylor said, shaking her free hand with mock solemnity. "What can I get you to make up for your terrible choice in men?"
Thorne scoffed, but she giggled. "I was looking forward to my first piece of apple pie."
Taylor gasped, prompting another bout of laughter. "Your first piece! Well, I'm honored, but where did you come from where they don't have apple pie? Do Martians have American accents?"
"Lunars do, or at least sometimes." Thorne said with amusement, but it quickly faded at his friend's expression.
"Stars. You're not serious." Only a moment's silence told him what he didn't want to hear. "When I saw you with the cyborg, I thought she must've been controlling you, but if you're just going to give yourself up to be manipulated like that-"
"She's a shell, she's not hurting anybody."
"What, so she flew here because even the Lunars won't take her? They can't be trusted, Thorne! I know you mean well, but she's an illegal immigrant, and you-"
"I'm a legal citizen of the Eastern Commonwealth." She regretted opening her mouth immediately. The look that was turned on her was filled with nothing less than disdain and disgust.
"Right. Of course you are." He returned his gaze to Thorne, and she sighed in relief. "The Emperor's too soft."
"Why don't we just sit down? We're paying customers like anyone else."
"No. No Lunars, no shells, and no cyborgs."
Thorne shifted. It was subtle, but Cress could see it. A slight narrowing of the eyes, a twitch of his hand. "I guess I didn't realize how deep this went."
"Stars, Thorne, don't take it so personal. I'm looking out for my business. I mean, shit, how did you even manage to lose two fingers?" Cress shuddered. He lowered his voice, which really only brought it down to a normal level. "You get into some kind of trouble again?" She was expecting- hoping for- some snarky response, something that would put him back on top. Instead, Thorne stayed silent, glowering, and squeezed her hand. It took her a moment to realize that it was for her sake. She squeezed back, grateful. "That's what I thought. Look, I can't make the customers upset, okay? I'm just running a business. I think... I think you should leave." She saw a hint of apology for the first time in the man's expression, and she could tell it was all sentiment. This man felt no sympathy for any cyborg- or any Lunar.
"Oh, that's fine. I think I was more in the mood for pizza, anyway. Have you had pizza, Cress?"
"Captain-"
"There's a place about a block from here that has some vegetarian stuff you might like. C'mon." He slipped his hand from hers, and she panicked for a moment, but he immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started leading her toward the exit. He opened the door with a charming smile and a gentlemanly "After you," and it was only because his grip was tighter than usual that she could tell he was still bothered.
"Captain." She tried again. He only sighed.
"Stars, Cress, I'm sorry. I should've thought about it before. We can go back to the ship if you want. I-"
"Thorne." He met her eye, and she rewarded him with a tentative smile. "I've never had pizza before. It's Italian, right?" He stared at her for a moment longer, as if to make sure she was alright, then relaxed somewhat. He fell easily back into his usual carefree demeanor, and sent them ambling eastward.
"Oh, you really do need to be taught a few things. Pizza is one of the most American things there is! Everyone knows that."
"I'm pretty sure it's Italian."
"Trust me, Cress. I'm the captain. I know everything!"
She quipped back, and he preened, and they talked for a while more. The smiles grew, the atmosphere relaxed. They ate pizza peacefully. The events of the day were not forgotten, but they were momentarily ignored in favor of keeping their dignity and their joy. Somewhere a few blocks away, a red-faced restaurant owner watched as another customer walked out.