Sage has a place that does good ramen, apparently. Found it through that whole 'networking thing', so perhaps that was something that they could do. Not as a date (maybe as a date? Sage still doesn't know where he stands on all of this), but-- yeah. Food was always safe, right? Food and coffee.
And not talk about marriage and futures that seem far too good to be real and countries filled with memories for the both of them it seems. There is another huff, quieter this time, and another flare of red in his face at the hand on his shoulder that Sage tries to hide behind his coffee, even when the barista gives him a reassuring look. Tries to let him know that it is okay that he trips over his feet and his tongue and the lines and threads he can't even fully see let alone grasp.
He takes the opening when it's offered.
"I feel like it should be the other way around." Maybe. Or maybe they both need breaks to deal with each other, or maybe they do just... work. Fuck, Sage doesn't find himself thinking the idea so crazy at this point. "Or maybe I would need energy potions, you seem-- yeah, you have a lot more of that than I do."
And charm. And affection. And patience.
And perception. Because Minsu seems to know exactly what Sage is asking, even if the witch doesn't really give a lot for him to work with.
The answer he gets isn't surprising at all to him; he knows that he isn't the Sage that Minsu loves, isn't the one that made him the ring that sits on his finger, or the one that has made so many brilliant memories with him. Knows that no matter how much Minsu might give him, might try to see in him, he isn't who Minsu loves and remembers. Not really.
So why there is a twinge in his chest, a flicker of something heavy, makes no sense to him at all.
Sage has something bland to say on the tip of his tongue ('makes sense' 'understandable' 'I'm sorry') but what comes out instead is:
"I'm glad you're here."
Ah, shit.
There is pause, another near stumble, as Sage swallows a noise of dismay and tries to chug his coffee to cover it, only, well, that is still pretty fucking warm coffee. Which leads to him burning his tongue a little (and throat) and whining as he tries not to spill the offending liquid anywhere. (Or, you know, spew it out all over some poor unsuspecting passerby).
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And not talk about marriage and futures that seem far too good to be real and countries filled with memories for the both of them it seems. There is another huff, quieter this time, and another flare of red in his face at the hand on his shoulder that Sage tries to hide behind his coffee, even when the barista gives him a reassuring look. Tries to let him know that it is okay that he trips over his feet and his tongue and the lines and threads he can't even fully see let alone grasp.
He takes the opening when it's offered.
"I feel like it should be the other way around." Maybe. Or maybe they both need breaks to deal with each other, or maybe they do just... work. Fuck, Sage doesn't find himself thinking the idea so crazy at this point. "Or maybe I would need energy potions, you seem-- yeah, you have a lot more of that than I do."
And charm. And affection. And patience.
And perception. Because Minsu seems to know exactly what Sage is asking, even if the witch doesn't really give a lot for him to work with.
The answer he gets isn't surprising at all to him; he knows that he isn't the Sage that Minsu loves, isn't the one that made him the ring that sits on his finger, or the one that has made so many brilliant memories with him. Knows that no matter how much Minsu might give him, might try to see in him, he isn't who Minsu loves and remembers. Not really.
So why there is a twinge in his chest, a flicker of something heavy, makes no sense to him at all.
Sage has something bland to say on the tip of his tongue ('makes sense' 'understandable' 'I'm sorry') but what comes out instead is:
"I'm glad you're here."
Ah, shit.
There is pause, another near stumble, as Sage swallows a noise of dismay and tries to chug his coffee to cover it, only, well, that is still pretty fucking warm coffee. Which leads to him burning his tongue a little (and throat) and whining as he tries not to spill the offending liquid anywhere. (Or, you know, spew it out all over some poor unsuspecting passerby).