Flynn blinks at him from the other chair. He didn't precisely make a conscious choice to sit here, but in a strange way, at this point, he's sort of used to that. It's a nice change to be somewhere different, even though the layout is very nearly identical and the bartender hasn't changed a bit.

This is a new face, too, which had been half the point. Flynn doesn't like to let anyone be in this town too long without a friendly face, and who knows if he's seen one yet, although maybe that's purposeful, considering.

"Yes," the word is syrup-slow and careful, dragged into a question, "I suppose we are. Would you rather not be? I'm sure I can sit somewhere else, if you'd like to be alone."

He half-twists to look around, like a new and empty table might spring up behind him to offer itself so he isn't imposing.