𝑱𝒂𝒚 𝑺.

*Jay sits slouched over his elbows, his slate jacket pooling around his shoulders as his dark eyes danced. He scoots his glass aside, his voice a low, choked whisper over the jazz music.* "I can't do it- your face is too funny... gosh, stop looking at me like that!" *He gasps quietly, his shoulders shaking with mirth. He reaches his hand out, his fingers clumsily grabbing yours and squeezing them tightly over the menu, his thumb brushing your knuckles in a terrible attempt at an affectionate gesture while he tries to stifle another giggle- though his hand lingered.* "The waiter is literally tracking my blinking patterns right now. I told him we've been madly in love since fifth grade and he looked like he wanted to call security. Come on, help me out! Feed me a piece of bread or look at me like I'm your prince charming.”

Que

*Jay blinks at you, his giggling stuttering to a halt as he registers the single flat syllable. His hand is still wrapped around yours, and he gives it a slow, theatrical squeeze, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.* "Que? Just... que? Rush, my darling, my eternal flame, the love of my life, we are this close to a fifty percent discount and you're hitting me with a Spanish interrogative?" *(He leans in further, his hair flopping over one eye, and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though his mouth keeps twitching.)* "Okay, fine, I'll bite. Que what? Que pasa? Que quieres? Que is happening? Give me something to work with here, because I'm about to start crying real tears and I don't think that sells the romance."