If you’re the sort of person who murders your whole family, how many sugars do you put in your coffee? That was one of the three things that had been bothering Tina all morning, that and the dress and the dog, and she craned her neck and held her breath as she waited for the answer.

No sugars, but a hell of a lot of cream. Por Dios, more cream than coffee, what was wrong with him? Besides the fact he murdered his whole family. When Miles moved on from the coffee machine Tina swooped in and poured herself a big cup of black just to restore the balance of the universe. And because that was how she liked it. Then she loaded up on huevos naturales, because they were free, and that helped counteract the other thing that was bothering, the dress.

Which left the dog. “Hey.” Tina gave Miles her winningest smile, hopefully. “Could I get your opinion on something?”

Miles hovered over a little basket of donuts, cinnamon buns, and sweet rolls, studying them like a midterm. He turned and looked Tina up and down. He laughed.

It was the rudest thing anyone had ever done, which didn’t explain why Tina laughed along with him. It should have been a lousy first impression, but there was nothing cruel or mocking about it. Tina ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe the smile off it. “What? Do I have food in my hair again?”

He’d almost recovered, but that set him off again, and the laughter rocked his body so hard he spilled his coffee. Tina wondered if there was Kahlua in it.

She grabbed a wad of napkins and helped him mop up the coffee from the counter and the floor. She pointed to a stain on his blazer. “May I?”

Miles shrugged. “It won’t come out.”

Tina patted at the wet brown splotch. “That’s okay. It suits you.”

They stood there beside the continental breakfast, staring at each other. Tina couldn’t tell if he was waiting for her to talk or collecting his own thoughts. This was the hardest part of her job, and the most important: the silence. She moved her eyes between his and tried to multiply 67 by 76 in her head so it looked like she was thinking.

Miles took a deep breath, and blew it out as he looked down at his mug. “Guess I need more coffee.” He moved back to the drip machines. Tina picked up a handful of creamers and started peeling the tops off. “I still owe you an opinion, don’t I?”

“Hold on. Aren’t you going to tell me what’s funny?” She handed him the creamers one by one, wincing at every shade the coffee lightened.

“That’s awkward. I thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“I do everything on purpose.”

“The way you’re dressed, you’re a walking - again, I thought you were being funny on purpose. Now it just feels mean.”

“Oh, I am,” she said, although depending on what noun walking was supposed to modify this could stop being funny very, very fast. “Just people don’t usually get the joke.”

He smiled. “A walking contradiction.”

Tina snorted. “Says the guy who won’t put any sugar in his coffee but leers at donuts so hard they could press a lawsuit.”

Miles looked away, smiling sheepishly. “I really like donuts.” He grabbed one from the basket like an urchin grabbing an apple from a fruit cart. “Join me?”

They sat in the center of a sea of small tables. Tina realized she was hunching her shoulders and tried to relax. She hated being surrounded by people, and would be much more comfortable with a wall at her back, but Miles sprawled in his chair like he owned the place. He reached a calloused hand across the table. “Miles Hannigan.”

“I know.” Tina shook it. “Valentina Axelsson.”

“Danish?”

“Swedish.”

He nodded. “Thought you were pale for a Mexican.”

She pulled her hand back like his had burned her. “I am Mexican.”

“I know. A pale Mexican.”

She frowned. “Cool. So, contradiction?”

He ignored the actual food on his plate and went right for the donut. “The way your dressed. You’re too young to pull it off, and you’re stealing food from a hotel breakfast. You can afford diamond earrings, but not eggs?”

She gave her plate a guilty look. “I have a reservation.”

“Okay.”

She sighed, running a finger along her earlobe. “They’re plastic.”

“Really? I honestly can’t tell.” Miles finished the donut in three bites and washed it down with his over-creamed coffee. Tina felt sick just watching him. “Your turn. You want my opinion on…”

“Cards on the table? That was just an excuse to talk to you. I think we’re past that now.”

“Well, now I’m curious.” He sat back, apparently oblivious of the food that still filled his plate.

“It’s just a stupid thing. I was on facebook and this guy I know had posted a picture of his dog, actually the picture was from a couple years ago but he’d gone back and commented on it so it showed up in my feed. The comment was something like, ‘Miss this’ or ‘Good memories’ or whatever. And one of his friends had left comments a couple years ago, again this is really stupid, the dog had a reputation for being really stupid and in the old comments they were making fun of it. So the same friend comments again, like, ‘Yeah I miss messing with this fucker, when we gonna do that again’ and just starts going in on this poor dog. But the first guy explains he meant he missed the dog, because it just died, I guess.”

Miles raised his eyebrows. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, it got sorta real. Dude ended up deleting his comment, but still people kept calling him out on it. And it’s been bugging me, I guess, because watching it play out I felt like the whole situation should have been funny but obviously it wasn’t. I was going to ask you why you thought that was.” She winked at him. “But we’ve already figured out you have a broken sense of humor.”

Miles smiled. “Fair enough.” He studied her for a moment. “So. How did you find me?”

“Find you? You literally aren’t even trying to hide.”

His smile was very quiet. “Because nobody’s looking for me.”

Tina considered the unasked question. “Juana,” she said at last. “I found you through Juana.”