H
e felt the discomfort ripple through Charlie's field, and noticed the slight bitter edge to his voice. His joke seemed to have struck a nerve, and he regretted it immediately. He said nothing more on the subject, not acknowledging the turn he had taken, which he thought was for the best. They were having a good time, so far, and he didn't want to drive Charlie off with silly things. Charlie leaned ever closer, the distance between them now barely even a distance at all. If they moved any nearer, they would be in each other's lap.
He laughed a bit as Charlie "confessed" that he couldn't quite make being pretty a profession. "That's a shame," he interjected, "I can't imagine why, from where I'm sitting."
It was his turn to be surprised, though, when Charlie went on to say that the two of them were in the same field of work. He could feel the familiar static particles in Charlie's field, but he hadn't guessed that they were in the same line of work exactly.
"Well," he said, drawing it out a little, "what a small world."
The din in the bar was growing more and more oppressive as the hour grew later and more people were filtering in. Baz was beginning to find it hard to focus on Charlie, and their conversation, and it began to show. He didn't want his inattention to be mistaken for disinterest. He scratched his jaw, glancing out into the bar, before leaning closer again.
"I'm sorry," he said, "it's a bit loud in here. Would you be interested in going somewhere a bit quieter? And maybe more… private?