Work Text:
ONE
25-02-2018
Drip drip drip.
The rain patters against the awning. Consistent, loud.
Drip drip drip.
Mindless, tired eyes. Staring, staring, staring. Watching.
People. Passing, hurrying. Escaping the weather. The-
Drip drip drip.
The droplets dot the window, patterns, streaks. Racing, falling, running.
Drip drip drip-
-ing.
The glass. The glass, transparent, clouded. Blurs of rushing figures. In the cold, in the rain. In the wind. Rushing, whipping, freezing.
Drip drip drip.
Safety and warmth. Only blocked by the glass. Smell, scents, calming, familiar, coffee, tea. Light warm, glowing, homely. All at the expense of company. Of boredom.
Drip drip-
-Ring.
The door flies open, the wind, the cold and the rain rushing to join the small figure who wanders in. Elizabeth straightens very suddenly, spurred from her thoughts, brushing down her apron and rolling back her shoulders.
The figure turns out to be a small man. A lot shorted than Elizabeth, and much, much skinnier.
His eyes green eyes are sharp and piercing, jumping nervously around the shop behind his rectangle glasses. He pushes them carefully up his hooked nose before drawing his long, narrow fingers tight around his body. Shrinking as he clutches intensely, hands digging into his over-sized cardigan. Pulling it taught.
He shivers, pursing his thin lips before making eye contact with Elizabeth.
She's very suddenly overwhelmed.
His stare is intense, overbearing. Reading, soaking, knowing, knowing, knowing- she has to tear her gaze away, looking pointedly at the window behind him before drawing a deep breath.
"Hi, can I help you?" She forces out, still very intentionally not making eye contact.
"We'll see." He mutters.
She pauses a second, mouth opening and then shutting. Fuck this guy. She thinks, hands pressing down on the counter below to steady herself.
This sure is going to be… something.
He scans the board, eyes just as intense, retaining every word, drinking it up. It's unsettling, he's unsettling.
They pause, slowing, reading each word carefully. Purposefully, a question unanswered. The answer is there.
He nods, small and tight before looking back at Elizabeth. She does not look back at him.
"One medium Earl Grey." He says, adding very suddenly "To go."
Elizabeth nods, putting it through the till. "Three fifty please."
He steps forwards, hands retracting from their insistent tugging of his cardigan.
He pulls out a wallet with a shaking hand. Up close its easier to see the scars that line what skin is visible. The thin, deliberate line across his throat, as if somebody had tried to slit it. The circular pockmarks scattered unevenly across the brown canvas. And the burn.
The burn that stretches across the shaking hand, the skin rough and shiny and uneven. Wrapping around, laying claim.
He retrieves his card, making the payment and stepping back.
Elizabeth still avoids his eyes.
"What's the name for that order?" She asks.
"Th- uh. Jon." He replies shortly, scowling like the names sour, bitter, unfitting.
She supposes that such a plain name for such an interesting character may be just that.
She nods. "Should just be a moment."
He doesn't reply, preoccupied by his hands that are nervously picking at the edge of his cardigan. Pulling and pulling and pulling, scratching and tearing at the already fraying seams.
He's so, so small. Short and skinny and his hunched shoulders only make him smaller.
His face is full of sadness, etched with lines of worry and the endless scars, but he doesn't look that old. His hair is long, frizzy tied loosely back and streaked with grey. There’s a slight shake in his hands and a limp in his leg. He's seen things, felt pain, but he’s not that old.
And his eyes. Loud, and overbearing and somehow ancient.
They’re big and loud and there. Demanding to be noticed, to be seen. To know you and all you know. All your secrets and wishes and all the things you've never told a soul.
She might feel bad for him. Cranky little man who's clearly been put under an unhealthy amount of pressure if it weren't for the eyes.
Those unsettling, overwhelming, terrifying eyes.
She turns away, taking a deep, stabilising breath.
She's ok.
She sets about making the tea, a practiced motion. An easy motion. A calming motion.
Warm and familiar.
Once finished she caps it, turning back to the man. To Jon.
"All finished."
He snaps to look at her again and she once again looks away, placing the tea on the counter.
She steps backwards as he reaches forwards to grasp it, fingers wrapping around and cardigan falling away from his thin arm. It's more bone than meat.
He draws it close, holding it below his nose and drawing a deep breath. Nose scrunching at the bitter smell.
Then he holds it to his lips, tilting it back to take a small sip.
His face morphs into disgust, mouth scrunching at the taste, tongue drawing across his lips as if trying to rid them of the taste.
He looks at Elizabeth again, muttering a small, weak "Thank you." He pauses. "Elizabeth."
Then he walks away, still sipping at the beverage he clearly doesn't like. Out the door, into the rain, into the drip, drip, drip.
Elizabeth simply stares as he goes, mouth agape. Shocked.
She never told him her name.
They don't wear name badges.
So how the fuck did he know?
Weird shit.
TWO
25-03-2018
Jon comes in regularly after that.
Every couple of mornings he makes his way through the door, stares at the menu, orders the exact same thing, takes a sip, his face displaying visible disgust, and heads back out to wherever he goes- presumably work.
Elizabeth still doesn't like him. He's grouchy and rude. Says weird shit a lot, just tidbits of information he shouldn't know.
It's creepy and invasive and she still can't look him in the eye.
It's a sunny morning— as sunny as it can be on a spring day in London, when Jon, tired as ever, walks into the café exactly a month since his first appearance.
They perform their usual dance; short greeting, staring at the menu, ordering an Earl Grey, paying, awkward silence as the tea is prepared and eventual handing over of the beverage.
When Elizabeth passes the tea to him, Jon's holding onto some pieces of paper, skimming over the words and humming to himself in thought.
She's not entirely sure why but something compels her the ask- "What've you got there?"
"Huh?" Jon's taken aback for a moment, eyes widening before he blinks, shaking his head and regaining his composure. "Just a statement."
"A statement? On what?" Elizabeth prompts.
"Oh uh... it's what I study, at my job. We take statements, archive and research them." He explains, tapping his toe nervously on the ground, hands pressing tight against the warmth of the takeaway cup.
"Interesting." She nods. "What kinda research?"
"Uh, it's of the... paranormal kind."
Huh, that checks out.
"Paranormal? Found anything spooky?"
Jon's face scrunches in disgust when she says it, spooky, as if the mere word offends him. Maybe it does.
"Most are just ramblings of drunks, or pranksters thinking they can get a good laugh." He tells her and she notes the word most but doesn't push, simply nods.
"Somehow that's not surprising. Must be tiring working through all of that.”
“Yes, it can be.” He nods, “Dealing with statement givers becomes… somewhat of a chore. I’m not much of a people person.”
Elizabeth lets out a small chuckle, “I’ve noticed.”
Her face morphs into horror as she comprehends what she said. “I- shit sorry that was rude- “
“You’re fine.” He assures her, cutting her off. “I understand I’m not exactly the most pleasant to be around, you’ve done well dealing with me so far.”
At least he’s self-aware? She taps her fingers nervously on the counter. “You’re fine, definitely had worse customers. I mean, at least you’re not a bigot? I hope…” She trails off, looking nervously at her lesbian pride pin stuck to her apron.
“No, no, I’m queer myself.” He assures her. “I’m an asshole but I’m not that kind of asshole.” He gives a small laugh, it’s a bit awkward and stilted but this is… kind of nice? Maybe he’s not as bad as she thought.
“Duly noted. I should probably let you go, though? I’m sure you have work to do.”
He nods gratefully, not quite smiling but almost. "Yes, goodbye Elizabeth."
"See ya." She gives a small half wave.
Jon goes to push open the door but pauses halfway, turning back to look at her.
"You might want to grab your umbrella this afternoon, it's going to rain fairly heavily." Jon tells her.
She gives him a skeptical look. Sure, weather in London can be unpredictable but she's checked the forecast so many times today and it's set to be sunny all day.
He doesn't elaborate, slipping nimbly out the door into the busy street.
When she pushes open the door at the end of her shift later that afternoon, umbrella in hand just in case, she's only steps out of the door before it's suddenly pouring with rain.
THREE
28-04-2018
Ring.
The door opens, Elizabeth looking up from the table she's wiping down, hand paused mid wipe.
"Jon, hi." She smiles.
Elizabeth has found she doesn't mind Jon so much anymore. Sure, he's still a bit grumpy and yeah, she still can't meet his eye but since the umbrella incident and their little chat he's continued giving her tips. Just handy things that would otherwise inconvenience her. Things he probably shouldn't know but she chooses not to question it. If he's some kind of psychic that's his business.
He simply nods at her and she notices he's got his hand poised over his ear, holding onto a chunky, beaten phone.
"Yes Daisy, I'm just getting tea." He says into it.
There's a pause, in which Elizabeth continues her wiping.
Interesting, he's never mentioned anybody else before. So, he does have friends.
"No, I can't get Martin to make it."
She finishes up, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn piece of sticky something (probably jam).
Martin! Another character— that makes two. What an eventful morning.
"He won't even look at me, Daisy, I can't just ask him to make me tea."
She stands straight, grabbing her materials.
So, Martin's not a friend, then. What could Jon have done to be granted such insistent ignoring?
She can maybe think of a few things, but she doesn’t think too deeply about it.
"I know he loves making tea." He's grasping the bridge of his nose. "And I enjoy his tea he's just not talking to me, he’s off with that asshole Lukas."
She heads back behind the counter, carefully shutting the small door that separates her and the customers.
Lukas. Today really is full of new people. So that's why Jon turned up so suddenly— this Martin was making him tea and stopped suddenly.
"No don't— Daisy it's fine, it's his choice and I need... I need to trust him, ok? I miss him but-"
She wipes down the area in front of the till with her hand, unsure what to do while she waits.
Hm, fondness. Maybe there's something there. Feelings for this Martin, perhaps? She’s never heard his voice quite so… soft. So vulnerable.
"Oh, shut up." He sighs, regaining his usual composure. "I'll be back in the Archives soon. Would you like anything?"
She fixes the napkins where they sit beside the till, straightening them up as neatly as she can.
Ah, so these are workpeople. From the place with the statements on spooky things. They definitely need to lay off, Jon looks one foot in the grave from overwork. Even more than usual today.
"Yes, yes ok. Fine, once I've done a statement we can listen to The Archers."
She straightens up the cups used to display cup size. Shifting them so they once again sit in a line.
She throws a glance at him- cranky, stubborn Jon listening to The Archers of all things? He must like Daisy to put up with that.
"Ok, fine, over the tea then. But straight after, ok? I'm... I'm really hungry."
Beneath the counter she begins shifting the paper bags, so they sit in a neat pile, rather than slipping messily over one another.
She tries not to let a disapproving look cross her face. His weight has been a concerning factor to her the moment she saw him, and she's never seen him order anything but tea.
"Yes. Right, see you soon. Be... be careful, ok?"
Out of things to neaten up, she folds her hands on the counter and waits for him to be done. Making a valiant effort not to catch his eye, indicating she's watching, as soon as his gaze begins drifts towards her.
"Yes, yes I haven't been kidnapped again since before the Unknowing, I'll be fine."
What?
Jon hangs up, tucking his phone into the pockets of his trousers and walks up to the counter.
As usual, he glances over the menu before. "Two medium Earl Greys to go."
The normal exchange is made before Elizabeth decides to speak.
"Been busy recently? Haven't seen you in a couple days." She tries her best not to think about what she overheard. Especially not the last bit.
"You could say that." Jon nods. "Been... quite the week. More so than usual."
He looks it. Weak and tired, in his own words more so than usual. The bags under his eyes bigger, limbs frailer, lines in his face deeper and he's laced with a slow, languid tiredness he doesn't usually possess. As if he was recently under extreme physical exertion.
She sets about making the tea as they continue their back and forth, it's become a part of their routine. The stores quiet anyway so there's no harm.
"Mind me asking what happened?" She prompts.
"I- just some work-related things." He replies nervously. "I can't really... disclose the details."
Elizabeth nods but she's facing away from him so it's a bit harder to communicate through body language like this. "Hopefully things have eased up now."
"In a sense, I guess they have."
"That's good to hear." She glances back at him. "Who was that you were on the phone to?" He's come in often enough to feel like she's not pushing with that question, they've both began disclosing more, smaller personal details in their recent chit chat.
"Ah, that would be Daisy. She's a... colleague, recently..." He lets out a hmm, picking his words carefully judging by his tone. "... returned to work, caused quite the fuss and its why I've been so stressed. As, well, her boss but also friend now, I think."
Elizabeth hums in reply, nodding along. "Sounds like whatever it was has settled down at least. Good you two are friends now, huh?"
"Yes, quite." He subconsciously rubs along the thin scar that lines his throat; face pressed in thought. "Though I do wish she had better pass times than listening to bad radio shows and working out."
She lets out a small laugh at that, finishing up with the tea and turning towards him. "What can I say? Friends make sacrifices, even if it's listening to bad radio shows for them."
"They do." He gives her a sad smile and she passes the beverages over, this time in a cardboard holder.
"See you again soon, enjoy work and bad radio."
"Yes, thank you, you too." Jon nods and, as always, heads out into the busy street.
FOUR
15-08-2018
"No, Lisa, he's weird." Elizabeth looks at her girlfriend insistently. "Like— he's this tiny, tired, grouchy academic but he's got these scars all over. And he just says things sometimes. That don't make sense or— ok once he mentioned being kidnapped to a friend over the phone and was talking as if it was nothing."
Lisa hummed, her voice reverberating through the speaker of the phone and eyes in the video never leaving whatever homework she's doing. "Sounds like a right nutter."
Elizabeth pauses for a moment in thought. "You should come meet him. Just pop by before class, hope he turns up. See what I'm talking about."
Lisa finally looks up. "Sure, I'm sure I can spare some time for my girlfriend and some coffee."
-
"And then-" Lisa's cut off by the ring of the bell, the door to the café opening to reveal the small, tired man that is Jon.
"Hey Jon." Elizabeth grins at him, pushing off the counter she'd been using to lean towards her girlfriend.
"Elizabeth." He nods.
“What can I get you today?” She asks brightly.
“Same as usual- two medium earl greys.” He replies.
Elizabeth sets about making it and Lisa turns to Jon.
There’s a moment, as their eyes meet, that Lisa’s face fills with distress. Uncomfortable and seen. She quickly looks away, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Jon seems unbothered.
“So, you’re Jon, then?”
“I assume Elizabeth has been talking about me?” He inquires.
“That she has.” Lisa grins. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Lisa, her girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you.” He nods.
“She thinks we’ll get along, apparently you’re also prone to infodumping?” Lisa leans on the counter towards him, her usual grin across her face.
“I supposed one could say that.” He hums in response.
They set to talking, Lisa excitedly discussing her latest interest as Jon, not quite as enthusiastically joins in. He’s definitely interested though, his enthusiasm is simply more subdued, quieter.
“Good to see you two getting along.” Elizabeth passes Jon his cardboard tray. “I suppose you’re off to the spooky institute again?”
“Unfortunately.” Jon sighs.
“The Spooky Institute?” Lisa’s face contorts in thought. “The Magnus Institute? You work there?” A grin covers her face, eyes filling with interest. Elizabeth’s heart melts a little.
“Ah, yes.”
“Oh, awesome! I’ve read up on you guys. Went through all the leaked statements from the breach.” She laughs lightly. “The paranormal is so interesting!”
Jon’s face scrunches up. “Yes, I thought so too before becoming Head Archivist.”
“You’re the Head Archivist.” Lisa’s face lights up further. “So, you like, take the statements and get to go through them all? That’s so cool! Have you found anything of substance? Didn’t the old head go missing or something?”
“Ah, yes Gertrude Robinson disappeared quite… mysteriously.” He nods.
“Wait no, didn’t they find her body or something? An assistant found her during some infestation. She was shot or something.”
Jon’s face falls. “Yes, uh, Martin- the uh, assistant- came across her. It was a… distressing time.”
“Did they ever solve the murder?”
“That’s… rather confidential. The culprit is in prison now, though.” Jon sighs, fingers tapping nervously on the edge of his cup holder.
“Fair enough.” Lisa nods, “Seems a rather eventful place of work. Every time I read up there’s something new. I would love to work somewhere of the sort. Better than the regular academia.”
Jon shakes his head. “Take it from me, you don’t want to be working in academia and you especially don’t want to be working at the Magnus Institute. I mean that in full seriousness.” There’s an edge to his words, like he’s pleading for her to not. Like even the thought is painful.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She nods, “Besides, I’m not really cut out for academia. More of a… side interest? I’m studying art anyway. Much more in my lane.”
“That’s a relief to hear.” Jon nods, glancing down at his tea. “I should probably head off though, before these go cold.”
“Oh yes, sorry I get a bit carried away sometimes. It was good meeting you.”
“You too.” He nods at Lisa. “Goodbye Elizabeth.”
“Until next time.” She waves him off.
Once the door’s shut behind him Lisa turns back to her.
“I’ll have to come in more often, he is definitely an interesting character.”
“Aw, not because you wanna see your girlfriend?”
Lisa rolls her eyes, “That too, obviously.”
Elizabeth lets out a fond chuckle, but she can’t get that worried tone, the sadness and anger Jon expressed while discussing the institute out of her head.
FIVE
24-09-2018
Ring.
Jon enters the shop for the first time while somebody else is working with Elizabeth. She's sure other people have served him on her days off, but he's always arrived on the early morning shifts where it's just her while she's on.
Greg, her manager, is refilling the pastry shelves while she tidies up around the store. Just making idle conversation.
Greg's nice enough, definitely a good manager. He's just very tired all the time. Managing a coffee shop while also trying to serve as a single father for his three kids who are just now beginning to reach teenage hood takes a toll on one.
Elizabeth doesn't realise it's Jon at first, too busy cleaning. Greg's closest to the till so he's the one in charge of orders for the moment.
"Hey!" Greg does his best to be as cheerful as he can. "What can I get for you?"
"Uh..." Jon's voice croaks, low and tired. "Just... two medium Earl Greys."
"Coming right up!"
Elizabeth turns around, "Hey Jon!" She smiles.
"Elizabeth." He nods at her. He seems sad, tired. More so than usual.
"How've you been?" She asks while he pays for his drink.
"Been better." He shrugs. "And you? How's Lisa?"
"Good, she's been busy with University, so it's been a bit hard making time. Miss her a bit."
"I know how it is." He smiles sadly and it's clear he does. On some bone deep, draining level. Knows what it's like to miss somebody. "Wish her luck for me, remind her Universities not the end of the world. There's worse things out there." He chuckles lowly, like he's made some grim joke.
"Will do." She promises. "I'll make the tea." She tells Greg.
"Thanks Liz." He's the only one who calls her that, she finds it a bit funny more than anything.
She sets about making it and Greg goes back to what he was doing.
"You're a regular, then?" He asks Jon.
"Uh, yeah." Jon nods. "I- uh— come here most mornings."
Greg hums in response. "What do you do for work?"
"I'm an Archivist." He's awkward as ever.
"Academia, huh? Where about do you work?"
"The Magnus Institute." He says it with vitriol, spitting it like venom.
"Think I've heard of it. Something to do with ghosts?" Greg inquires.
"Uh, yes, paranormal investigation."
Greg hums, “Not really my cup of tea, never been big into horror.”
“Wish I could say the same.” Jon sighs. “Definitely not the… dream job.”
“I imagine not.” Greg lets out a short laugh. “Maybe you should consider switching professions, opening a coffee shop of your own.” He jokes.
“I really wish I could.” Jon sighs, not quite meeting Greg’s energy.
Elizabeth turns back to them as she finishes up the teas.
“How’s Daisy doing?” She asks.
“Still making me listen to the Archers but… a bit better, I think.”
“That’s good to hear. And yourself?”
“I’ve been… I’ve been better.” He sighs, looking down. “Things have been… stressful at work. A lot of stuff coming to light, a lot of things to worry about.”
“Maybe you really do need a new job, man.” Greg gives him a sympathetic look. “If its that stressful, might not be the right one for you.”
Jon just gives him a sad look. “I wish it were as simple as that.”
Elizabeth’s never seen him quite so sad before. Quiet and resigned, worried. He always looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders but today it seems as if the world’s heavier than usual.
“Take care of yourself, okay, Jon?” She says as she passes him his drinks
“I’ll try to.” He nods. “I will.”
“Good.” She nods. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“Yes. Nice meeting you, Greg.” He makes his way out and Greg turns to her.
“I never gave him my name.”
“He’s just like that.”
Greg hums in reply.
+ ONE
26-09-2018
Jon pushed the door of the coffee shop open one final time a quiet, early September morning.
He was quiet, careful, holding the door open gently for another man to wander through.
He was a lot larger than Jon, taller and bigger but softer at the edges. A strange softness, like he blends into the background. He held himself tightly, as if trying his best to shrink, remain unseen. His skin pale, peppered with freckles hair a shockingly stark white at all but the roots (the white seemingly receding, chased away by the natural orange). He scans the shop carefully, pale blue-grey eyes behind large, round glasses.
"We'll just get some tea and sit down before we head out, ok?" Jon places a tentative hand on the man's arm, allowing the door the swing close.
"Yeah, ok." The man says so quietly she almost doesn't hear.
"You're sure you still want to come?" He asks as he approaches the counter.
"Yes, Jon." The other man says, slightly forcefully but still lacking much emotion or feeling. As if he’s unable to summon it. "I'm not... not leaving again. You came for me; I'm coming for you."
Jon looks at him with a complete, unadulterated fondness of which she's never seen even remotely cross his face before. Not during his phone calls with Daisy who he seems to be close friends with, close enough to put up with listening to The Archers with. Not during his long conversations whenever Lisa comes in about whatever niche topic, she’s taken interest in recently.
The closest she's ever seen is during the brief mentions of the Martin character he and Daisy discuss sometimes. A subdued, repressed version of this fondness of course. As if he was doing his best not to allow himself to feel whatever he was feeling (and failing).
It occurs to her that this is probably Martin.
"Hey, Jon." She smiles at him.
"Elizabeth," He nods. "Just give us one moment."
He turns to (presumably) Martin. "What do you want?"
Martin's studying the menu with tired eyes. "I... maybe just a coffee? If I'm driving, I might need the caffeine.
"I can drive. You need to rest." Jon's hand's resting on Martin's arm again.
"We'll swap." Martin tells him. "But I'm driving in the busier areas, I know you're a shit driver and I'm not having us dying in a car accident of all things after all of this."
Jon sighs, resigned. "Fine. What kind of coffee?"
Martin's looking at the menu again, face laced with concentration. "Just... just an Espresso, I think. What're you getting."
"I- um usually get an Earl Grey." He tells him, adding quietly, "I missed your tea."
Ok so this is definitely Martin, then.
Martin looks at him with sadness. "Oh... Jon."
Jon looks flustered, pursing his lips and taking a grounding breath. "I'll... I'll probably get something else, though. I need the caffeine too and even if coffee is... hm." His face scrunches in distaste as he reads through the menu. "I'll want to be awake. Just make sure... we're safe."
Martin nods, giving his shoulder a quick, soft, squeeze. "Alright. But once we're there we rest."
"Of course."
Finally, he looks at Elizabeth. Even after all these months she can't bring herself to meet his gaze.
"One Espresso and one Caramel latte please." He looks at Martin again. "Do you want to have them here or in the car?"
Martin thinks a moment, "I'm sure we can spare a little time. It's our last time in London for a while, might as well make a... nicer memory."
Jon nods, looking at Elizabeth again who's putting the order through the till.
"Size?" She asks.
"Large. For both." Jon answers.
She, as usual, pulls up the price and they make the exchange. Cash rather than his usual card.
"Be ready in a moment." She tells them and they go and take their seats. Not too far from the counter.
She can hear their quiet conversation as she goes about preparing the drinks.
"How are you feeling?" Jon asks him.
"Still a bit numb but I'm... getting there." Martin replies. "Thank you... again."
"Always." Jon assures him, extending a hand across the table the Martin stares at for a moment before taking in his own.
"You'll never be alone again." He promises.
Martin smiles at him softly and they lapse into comfortable silence for a few moments before Martin speaks again.
"You come here a lot, then?"
"Yes." Jon looks down, sheepishly. "I... after I confronted you the first time since waking up I just... wanted some tea. So, I started coming here. Once Daisy got back, I used to get tea for both of us." There's a sort of sadness in his voice when talking about Daisy. "I hope... I hope she's ok."
"Basira will find her." Martin assures him. "She'll be ok."
"I hope so. We... we were close by the end, there."
"I know." Martin's voice is soft, calming. "She'll be ok. Things are going to get better from here."
"I hope so."
"Me too."
Elizabeth has finished up their drinks by this point, carrying them carefully over to the table and placing them down. "Enjoy."
"Thank you." Martin smiles at her.
"Yes, thank you." Jon mirrors.
They sip their drinks in a comfortable silence, hands still grasped between them on the table. It doesn’t take them too long before they’re done. Preparing to leave.
Before they step all the way-out Jon pauses and turns back to Elizabeth.
"Thank you, for being so kind for all these months." He says, quietly and sincerely. "I don't... I don't know when we'll be back in London so thank you and stay... stay safe. You and Lisa. The world's... it’s a strange place."
And with that, he and Martin make their exit. Never to step foot in the coffee shop again.