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    Summary

    It took Francis a bit to get his ID and entry request out. He slipped them through the slot hesitantly. As you did your best to speedrun your paperwork-reading, because you felt so bad for him, you blurted, “D’you want a coffee?”
    Francis blinked at you. “Mm?”
    “Uh,” you said, instantly regretting being born. “Coffee. From– coffee machine. In my office. It’s coffee.”
    You both made uncomfortable eye contact for a very prolonged period of time.
    “Sure?” Francis said.
    You cursed God for your hubris.

    You and that damn milkman had been making eyes at each other for way too long now.
    All it took for you two to get to it, though, was a vague bit of stupidity. And coffee.

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