Shrink

8

I wasn't nervous, just mortified of the thought of spending my Saturday night being interrogated by Sweets. God I hoped not to get drunk.
Obviously that wouldn't be easy, but I could maintain a sober conversation with the good doctor. Hopefully.
As all these thoughts were running through my head, Sweets was chit-chatting with me about small things at first, like the traffic and the place we were going, which then became bigger things like my career goals. Everything was responded with a subtle nod or a quiet no.
Sweets finally sighed, quieting for the rest of the ride.
We pulled up to a darker building with a neon sign flashing Destiny's over and over again.
How ironic.
In any case, it looked really seedy and run down.
Sweets must have...couldn't have not.. noticed my apprehension, when he quickly cut in, "This isn't it, it's the top floor."
"What is Destiny's?"
Sweets shrugged.
"There's a back door to get in, so I've never really had the opportunity."
Leading the way, Sweets knocked on a metal door in an alleyway that smelled particularly putrid, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to.
A slot was opened and two enormous black eyes stared us down before Sweets said, "She's with me."
The black eyes' eyebrows raised curiously, and the doctor once again fumbled in a, "not in that way."
The slot slammed shut, and the huge door swung open. To be completely honest, I was entirely terrified. I hung in the doorway, but Sweets noticed my slacking and prodded me to go ahead of him.
I followed the man in all black to match his eyes through a mud room, an employee entrance, and was opened a door that lead up a flight of stairs.
As we went through, the door slammed shut behind us, throwing the stairwell into pitch darkness.
"I can't see," I whispered, and Sweets' footsteps drew closer until he was on my step, his breath not two inches from my face.
"Don't worry, I know the way," he said, and proceeded upwards without me.
Scampering awkwardly after him, a door drew open, and low light and soft, familiar music could be heard as the background to the clinking of glasses and utensils. Otherwise, it would have seemed completely deserted.
"Mr. Sweets, this way," said the hostess, leading us to a padded window seat. "The waiter will be right with you."
"Thank you."
And with that, Sweets began to lean back, his head resting on the window frame.
"Very casual here," I breathed, not wanting to disturb the peace.
"Yes, it is. It even has soundproof walls to keep other noises from getting in."
I nodded, raising my knees to my chest.
Sweets kept his eyes closed but I could tell he was waiting for me to say something. I took the opportunity to observe him, feeling it was justified and totally not creepy.
Sweets had a thin long nose in between two long-lashed eyes. He had a soft dimple in between his thick eyebrows, which made me realize I was being too quiet.
"How was your day?" I asked softly.
A small tick to the corner of his lip that raised a mild dimple gave away his pleasure of the broken silence.
"Good, I only had a couple patients today, and I got lunch at the diner, and helped Booth question some suspects in the Hawking case."
"Is it in the bag?"
He nodded without opening his eyes. "In the bag."
Some locks of hair had been tousled into a frame around his ears and face, and his visage was that of complete contentment.
The people around use sat in beanbags or on foutons, at the feet of short tables, sipping drinks and nibbling on food.
"Sweets," I murmured, leaning forward. He didn't stir. I put my hands on his knees, shaking him. "Sweets, what is this place?"
"Welcome to Destiny's Attic," greeted a serene waiter in a white pressed shirt and black slacks. "hello, Mister Sweets."
"Hello, Angelo."
Sweets had magically come alive, as I was still perched against his knees.
"Same as always, this evening, sir?" he asked politely, and his gaze slipped over our current positions. "Times two?"
"Yes please," Sweets said, and Angelo nodded, leaving.
"You didn't tell me what this place was," I persisted, still a little in on his personal space.
Sweets leaned forward, his nose a breath away from mine.
"You ever heard of comfort food, Papillon?"
I nodded.
"Well this is a comfort bar. It's great for people who have trouble in social settings."
I slowly realized that most of the other customers were very withdrawn and that explained the quiet.
"You took me to this place for our first meeting?"
"Seems fitting, no?" he asked, as a tray was placed between us by Angelo, the little amount of room left on the seat taken.
"Spaghetti and meatballs, and breadsticks. Enjoy."
"Thank you," I breathed. "very Lady And The Tramp ish."
"So tell me," said Sweets, forking a huge amount of pasta into his mouth. "about you."
"W-what?" I asked, snapping my breadstick.
"Tell me all about you," he repeated. "outside of work, when you're not Ms. Antoine, or Anty or Pap, just... Papillon."