Flashed Points

Since Hartley was not an idiot - quite the opposite - and he'd spotted a very sombre looking Cisco walking out of the grief counselling group, he took initiative and headed into the staff kitchen, so he could fill two cups with coffee, remembering roughly how Cisco liked his. He walked back out just in time to intercept the other man on his way to the coffee machine. Some habits didn't change and were predictable.

"Hey, I have the good stuff for you." He hadn't known that Cisco would be here and he certainly didn't mean to pry. They weren't that close. Hartley really wasn't that close to anyone and given his general conduct, that was probably for the better. But holding out a cup of fresh coffee for an occasional colleague couldn't be that wrong. "The coffee from the machine is barely drinkable."

"Oh shit! Woah! Sorry, God, where the hell did you come from?" What the ever loving hell? He was fumbling for change and suddenly, bam! Hartley Rathaway was there, holding coffee like some kind of weird coffee hero who fought against the worst coffee of society and championed the good stuff. Or, hopefully the good stuff. Cisco was a little jumpy, he wasn't going to deny that but it was wise to be jumpy. Given he got kidnapped every tuesday of the month these days. People suddenly appearing? It got to him.

"Erm, sorry. Yeah, no, thanks." He took the coffee awkwardly and took a few steps back, eyeing Hartley suspiciously. Hartley was a good colleague these days, always there when he needed him and always one skype call away but the fact he was just randomly here had sort of thrown him. Is this where he worked out? Did he see where Cisco was going? Aww, damn. "So ... you're here."

"Yes. On staff." Hartley indicated his name badge before taking a sip from his coffee, than continued after swallowing. "LGBT counselling, just volunteering when I can." He paused to wave to a group of people who said goodbye to him, then looked at Cisco again and debated how to proceed from here. "The coffee in the staff kitchen is a lot better, so now you have an in." He couldn't ask why he was here. Or was it impolite not to ask? He really needed an app for situations like this, how was anyone supposed to do the right thing?

"I know. I didn't expect running into you either. Good to see you." He offered a shrug. "Even under the circumstances."

"Oh. That's really cool, man. I'm glad you have a hobby and, you know, you're pretty no-nonsense and all, I bet you slam those kids down hard. And gently." Hartley seemed like he'd be good at advise. He was compassionate, sure, but he was kind of scary so there was no bullshitting him without getting talked down to. Something Cisco learned when working with him. He took a sip of the coffee and yeah, no, that was pretty good. Not Jitters good but better than the weak ass stuff they sold in the machine.

"I'm just here for--" Shit. What did he say now? He didn't want to go into why he was here. His eyes flickered to the nearest classroom sign and he just went with it. "I'm here for salsa dancing." Never mind that the class for was senior citizens, he was rolling with it. Too late now. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Always good to have a new hobby and, you know, it always comes in handy. A Ramon family party always has salsa." Mostly the dip but sometimes the dance.

"Salsa dancing." Obviously he knew that was a lie, but he wasn't about to press the issue, so instead he just nodded. "I bet you show those old ladies all kinds of moves." What? He knew the salsa class, they loved him. He got free baked goods and jam a lot. Also, they were 85% women and all close to or over seventy, but whatever. He could just smile at Cisco and roll with it. He didn't want to press. "You know. If you ever want to talk about salsa dancing, outside of the group... I did take seminars for this. Counselling."

Salsa counselling. "How's it going? Aside from salsa?"

"What? You can counsel for salsa? What kind of weird seminar did you take? It's dancing, dude. You just dance. You don't talk about dance... do you?" Hartley clearly led a strange life if he was taking weird seminars like that. Was this a new age thing? Discussing the theory of salsa? Oh, how his abuela would be cursing a blue streak if he knew that. "I think I'm good, I'm just going to stick to learning as I go." But what a weird and strange offer.

Cisco sipped his coffee a little and shrugged his shoulders. How was it going? Well, Dante was dead, his mother was in pieces, his dad wouldn't speak to him, Barry was dead to him and Caitlin kept giving him pity looks. And he had his first date in months last night and he cried into his spaghetti like a weirdo and had to leave. "Good, you?"

Edited 2016-11-02 13:33 (UTC)

"...interpretive dance." He should have remembered. Cisco didn't get things like that. He thought he could do an 'I know that you know that I know and if you need anything, I'm here for you' thing with some amount of subtlety, but he'd forgotten just who he was dealing with. Subtlety didn't work for him.

How did it go? Well. He was lonely, things with his parents were strained and he had no one to talk to about it, he made very little money and he really wanted more, so he could continue his experiments. He hated the state of the country and it was only getting worse, he wanted to divide the riches more evenly and someone he was closer to than most anyone else in his life was standing right in front of him and he didn't even know how to offer help. "Good too." Since they were both lying through their teeth, might as well. All right, he had to do this.

"Cisco. If there's anything other than salsa you want to talk about. I'm good with that too. I'm..." He frowned, knowing it wouldn't be accepted. "I'm your friend, all right?"

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