After Zell walked out in his plains clothes with a hearty wave to the two of them, the change in the air was almost palpable. A few other customers left and the remaining amount could be counted on one hand, including them both. It was the kind of intimate hyper-awareness when you walked into a room with all eyes trained on you because there was no one else to look at. This feeling was only amplified by Rinoa herself who was now carrying herself with a little more open bubbliness than before – he gathered that she was somehow aware that he did not reject her in the e-document file.

It wasn't a bad thing considering what he needed to ascertain but it gnawed at him all the same.

"So tell me," she began to ask, "What do you do for a living?"

Squall narrowed his eyes a little in confusion. "…How is that going to help your novel?"

"It's going to help because I've come up with a new theory. Or a revised one at any rate." she declared. "While I can say that Zell would be an example of someone who treats foreigners with a little less resistance because he's also one, it doesn't quite explain your situation since you were very little when you moved here. So I figure there is something else that is making you a little more open-minded that has nothing to do with where you were born."

Thankfully, part of the facility's extensive training included what to say in the event someone asked this question.

"I don't think a comparable role exists in Galbadia but I work with a few medical facilities' outpatient programs for people who were discharged and don't have the means to come back to the facility for post-op check-ups. There are also welfare checks, rehabilitation and a variety of other things I do but that's basically the gist of it."

"So basically an outpatient program therapist kind of deal?"

"More or less."

"What made you decide on that?"

This question however, was not in the training. And while he could have skirted it easily, Squall gave the answer some honest thought instead; while this was proving to be an easy assignment since Quistis's hunches were proving to be correct so far, he was he did not want to chance ruining the momentum by doing the bare minimum. And if he was honest with himself, her earnestness was pandemic-level of infectious.

"I kind of fell into it." he truthfully answered. "While I don't mind helping my mom with the ordering and accounting aspects, I don't take an active role here because I don't have the soft skills she has to take over and keep the spirit of the place intact whenever she decides to retire."

"I'd say you could have fooled me but I know what you mean. Dealing with people on the regular, never mind managing them…it takes a special kind of skill set. Does your mom hope you'll change your mind insofar as that?"

Squall shook his head. "No. She knows I have no desire to succeed her role and respects that. And she's well-aware of my skill sets, or lack thereof." he said. "Part of why I came here today was to offer to help a little more consistently with the office work if she was in. She hasn't been able to fill the related role for a while now and never asks first on principle."

"That's nice of you to offer."

He resisted the urge to shrug and complain that it was worrisome that they couldn't ever fill the more analytical roles because most people in Esthar relegated all the analytical thinking to machines and those who didn't were poached for research jobs, leaving people like his mother in the lurch because she wouldn't ever be able to offer the kind of salary to attract them. But that was a grievance for another day.

"Maybe."

"Don't sell yourself short, I still think it is nice that you two have mutual respect for each other. It's nice to see." she reaffirmed before jumping back a few tangents. "So how did you end up with your actual job?"

"Other people deciding my abilities were being 'wasted' and stuck me in this job when someone else vacated it, mostly."

And that wasn't a lie. Quistis had basically recommended him because he was one of those analytical people poached for research jobs. The key differences were that his upbringing helped him read people even if he wasn't the most social of butterflies and could also take a few punches if need be. It was harder for the facility to find people who could handle lower level assignment-heavy caseload since they were often more unpredictable —unlike the peer-reviewed high level cases, all outpatients start as low level until there was enough evidence to ascertain they didn't pose too much risk for a closer observation.

"Been there, done that. You have my deepest sympathies."

"You can't say something like that and not elaborate."

Needless to say, he saw an opportunity to kick the spotlight in her direction and took it.

"Touché." she conceded. "Since you told me a personal story, I should tell you one of mine."

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Don't worry about that, I'm like you in that department." she insisted. "Anyway…my mom was a well-known piano player and when I showed some hints that I was musically-inclined too, she gave me really informal lessons for fun. Nothing serious or anything, it was just our thing."

"But other people wanted you to be serious about it."

"Yeah. When word got out, there was this…unbelievable pressure from everyone other than her to pursue a music career. Eventually, I caved. Not sure why in hindsight, but for some reason or another, I did." she admitted, absentmindedly tugging at her one sleeve. "It was only when she had passed that I walked away from the keys and admitted to myself it just wasn't for me. And as sad as it is to say, some people were still disappointed that I 'wasn't honouring her memory.' Irony is that my mom would have been the first person to support me in quitting to do something I was passionate about."

"My mother's dealt with her fair share of people like that growing up too. Wouldn't be surprised if she takes the approach she does regarding the café for that reason." he added. "Not sure if this can help your novel but that sort of expectation isn't as prevalent here. There's less focus on sentimentality and legacies in favour of what would make that person more useful to society as a whole. Minus cases like Zell's, that is."

"It doesn't really, but that's still interesting to know on a cultural level." she professed. "Do you have any more stories like that?"

"I wouldn't know since I don't know what's universal and what's not. It'd be easier if you told me what you're looking for."

"Fair enough. Let's see…" She paused for a moment, drumming her fingers on the counter. "Hmmmm… how do people view unconventional relationships here?"

"Relationships as in romantic relationships?"

"Yeah."

"Define unconventional."

"For comparison's sake and not necessarily my take on unconventional …anything that would get a priest from Galbadia agitated."

"I wouldn't know what priests in Galbadia would get agitated over. Esthar is a secular country."

"Wow Rinoa, wow." she mumbled to herself with a hearty facepalm. She took a small breath before rephrasing her question. "Priests in Galbadia would get up in arms over any relationship that's between not one man and one woman."

"I see. To answer the question, so long as all parties involved are of age and can give consent to whatever kind of relationship it is, most people here don't care who or how many people are in the relationship."

"I figured you guys would be more progressive on that front." she commented. "What about…um, relations?"

Seeing her entire face go pink at the last word was almost…cute.

"Pretty much the same thing. If people are of age and have consent to whatever it is, no one cares."

"Cool." Rinoa tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her left ear which was now a fraction less pink. "Do you guys have the pressure about hitting certain arbitrary life milestones like, going to post-secondary, getting a job, a place of their own, married, having kids, etcetera?"

Squall had to think about that one for a moment. "I might not be the right person to ask as a son of a transplant but I think there is some existing general pressure to make something of your life even if there are no specific milestones. The person who is single who is waiting for someone they're compatible with is held in more esteem here than one who has the unhealthy relationship."

"I see. So there's more consideration to what's best for the individual person?"

"In most regards, yes. The trade-off is that sometimes you feel that you have to pick what you're talented at over what you enjoy doing – like your piano-playing example." he added. "While it wouldn't matter that your mother was a well-known pianist or not, if you were better at that than the script writing, you might feel pressured to do that instead to make a name for yourself."

"So if I understood you correctly, here it's like you're encouraged to stand out than to fit in. And even though it's a completely different approach, you more or less end up with the same anxieties like those of us trying to fit in."

It almost felt wrong hearing Estharian culture neatly summarized like that but she wasn't off base in her observations. Not in the slightest. He nearly didn't register the frantic waving in front of him.

"You ok Squall?" she asked, no longer waving at him but still leaned forward, "You look like I just ruined your childhood. Or broke your brain."

"My childhood and brain are both fine. I just needed a moment to process that."

"Good to hear." she said, scooting forward on the barstool. "I'd be mad at myself if I couldn't ask you more questions because I broke your brain."

He tossed her a level look.

"Hey, you were the one who agreed to volunteer information in exchange for baked goods and or brewed coffee, don't give me that look." she light-heartedly chided him. 'Don't make me tell your mom you were being a Meany with a capital M."

"…You're the one who made it clear that you don't care about my childhood and suddenly I'm the mean one?"

"Yup. That's exactly how it works." she teased in the most over-the-top, sing-song tone ever.

He thanked whatever god was looking after him that Zell had left and his mother was not in yet. Not…that it'd stop Rinoa from actually telling her, but still, it was a small mercy. Hell, it was an even bigger mercy that Quistis wasn't around; he was convinced that he'd be pulled by the ear and given an emergency tutorial on how to approach subjects with the proper decorum that was so sorely lacking here.

Then his phone vibrated and Squall seriously considered the possibility that divine intervention was real.

He retracted this notion in approximately two seconds flat when he read Selphie's name instead of Quistis's on the display after he'd fished it out of his pocket. The idea was dead and buried when the body of said text comprised of, 'Squaaaaaaaaaaaall ansssssswer meeee… D:'

In spite of all rational sense, he quickly checked to see the text he probably missed to warrant the last one. Sure enough, there were a string of them starting around the time he had been in the shower this morning.

'Squall! I need your brains since Quistis has my case files and isn't answering. Was the ECC1124 cowboy hat guy or was that ECC1013? HALP!'

'Good news: I figured out that ECC1124 is cowboy hat guy on my own. Disregard the last message! :D :D'

'Bad news: he's a cowboy hat guy who won't stop hitting on me. Cripes, I don't know how long you had to be a bystander to this crud.'

That one was sent a little less than a half-hour ago. So maybe his phone simply didn't catch a proper signal so it mass updated just now?

'BAD news: I'm pt sure he's confusing me for someone else. He's going on about being ~destined~ to be together. Can I lay low at your place?'

Just as he was about to shoot a short 'no' as a reply now that he was caught up, another text made his phone angrily ding at him.

'Fiiiiine be that way. I'm gonna hang out at RCC. Your mom's way cooler than you anyway :P'

His stomach dropped at the sight of the date stamp indicated it was a belatedly-sent text from twenty minutes ago. She could be here within 15 minutes at the latest and it was not an option to be seen here chatting with Rinoa or to text her if she was on the subways and bound to receive it too late. As much as he liked and respected Selphie as a friend and co-worker, he was admittedly terrified of getting on her bad side. He'd seen far too many people on the wrong end of her wrath not to be wary of it.

"…Something the matter?" Rinoa asked.

Squall put down the phone but did not slide it back into his pocket, frantically searching his mind to give her an answer that wasn't something vague and excuse-like along the lines of, 'something came up.' Things of that ilk always inspired doubt regardless of the truth; he needed something better.

"A string of delayed text messages came in all at once. Probably because of the weak reception here." he began to explain, pausing slightly. Seemingly out of nowhere, an idea struck him like a thunderbolt. "I just got word that a co-worker is coming this way and it'd complicate things if she saw me here."

"Oh, why?"

Hook, line and sinker.

"The errand I was running for a different co-worker had to do with a surprise party for her. If she shows up, I won't be able to finish what's left to do. She…has a habit of clinging to people."

"Aah, say no more. I'll leave you to that then."

While he might have nodded and left with a curt goodbye, deep down, Squall hadn't expected for her to stay here without much fight. He'd anticipated that she'd find a way to finagle some reason to come with, especially given that she hadn't actually upheld her part of the deal.

Even still, as he reluctantly walked out the door, he had to remind himself that she did have his number and she'd be able to contact him once she got to wherever she called home. He simply had to trust her to call.

Or, failing that, he had to trust in himself to be confident enough to use the built-in excuse to come back here.

But regardless of who'd have to initiate what, the first order of business was to buy Quistis a cake. He didn't have to, sure, but given the fickleness of the universe, it was best to play it safe.