“YOU REALLY DON’T LIKE CROWDED PLACES, do you?” Regan asked Aldo, watching him uncomfortably take a seat. He was wearing the usual black jeans with the worn leather jacket, which made slightly more sense now that they were in a cocktail bar in River North instead of the museum. He hadn’t brought his backpack, thankfully, but the curls of his hair were tousled and twisted in complete disarray, helmet-shaped. She guessed he’d ridden over immediately after a shower.
“I don’t love crowds,” he said, “but no one does.” He glanced around before picking up a menu. “What are you drinking?”
She typically liked to be a mirror of whoever she was with. “Not sure. What do you have in mind?”
She figured beer, maybe hard liquor. Or maybe he was the sort of Italian who exclusively drank negronis. “The bottle selection is better than the glasses,” he said, gesturing to the wine list. “Have any interest in splitting one?”
“What did you have in mind?”
He scanned the list, his gaze darting briefly to the side as someone passed his chair, and then he shifted closer to Regan, somewhat unsuccessfully. “The Barbera,” he said, passing the wine list towards her.
Red wine. Interesting.
“Sounds perfect,” she said.
“You’re lying,” he noted. “You prefer white?”
She did.
“The red is fine,” she said, and his mouth twitched slightly.
“We don’t have t-”
“It’s fine,” she repeated. “Besides, maybe I’ll learn something about you by drinking it.”
More importantly, a bottle meant they’d be there a while. Considering his current discomfort, that had a more tangible guarantee than a glass.
“True,” he permitted, nodding.
She was gratified he didn’t say you’ll like it. That was one of her least favorite phrases; it was always unwisely assured. She hated all scenarios preceding the assumption that someone could predict her taste. Either they thought it universal enough that she could be lumped in with masses or they thought （usually incorrectly） that they understood her specific needs, and she wasn’t sure which crime was worse.
Ultimately, though, she thought the wine was good. She didn’t know the proper words for it, but was relieved that Aldo didn’t offer any. He merely took a sip, glancing with that same degree of discomfort over his shoulder.
She wondered if he resented her for taking him there.
“How’s the time travel research going?” she asked, and he let the wine linger on his tongue for a moment before answering.
“It’s not really research,” he said. “More like problem-solving. I know the solution, but I don’t know how it works.”
“I don’t think that’s how science works. Aren’t you supposed to hypothesize and then test it?”
“I’m a theoretical mathematician,” he said. “I hypothesize and then prove.”
She tucked that away for later use.
He glanced over his shoulder again, then back at her. Or, more accurately, at something that existed inside his head in approximately the place she was sitting, but not quite her.
“I’ve lost you,” she noticed.
“I was just thinking,” he said, “how the more harmful the sting of a honeybee, the less effective it tends to be at its job. The more the bee has to protect its hive, the less honey it produces.”
He took a sip of wine, and Regan said, “Tell me more about bees.”
“You don’t actually want to know about bees,” Aldo said warily, which was a hypothesis that Regan was happy to disprove.
“Don’t I?” she countered. “Besides, maybe bees for you are like art for me. Maybe it’ll teach me more about you than it does about bees.”
“Are you interested in me?”
It seemed to be a neutral question despite the phrasing, which in her experience usually meant something else. In general, Regan’s previous experiences were proving unhelpful when applied to Aldo.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” she reminded him. “I don’t typically do things I don’t want to.”
He considered it, gaze dropping to the stem of his glass and then rising to hers.
“If I tell you about bees,” he said, “then you have to tell me about the heist.”
She already knew he was single-minded. She added ‘transactional’ to her mental list.
“That wouldn’t be an even exchange,” she said. “One is personal.”