"I've never... completely... known what you wanted." he tells her, speaking of his own shortcomings in failing to figure it out. The few moments where both their wants have met have been startling and intense but, from the first drug-tainted time, left him confused as hell in the few days after. He's too prone to assuming, rather than asking. Maybe she's not prone enough to spelling things out in the simplified phonetics necessary. Either way, he's sure there have been connections they've missed because one of them way looking the wrong way and the other didn't call out in time. Working over 'could have beens' isn't why he's here.

"Listen, why not one drink. Two weeks time. If it sucks you can cut your losses and all you've lost is one crummy night talking to a colleague. We've all had those. One, casual drink." He bites his lip, "And I get to call you on days you might get eaten-- unless you want to check on me, instead. I do have more meat on me."

Hopeful. There it is again.