[ When Jake was at Atsugi for a truly intensive nine months of his life, Josie sent him a video of his nephew taking his first steps. After days and days of BFM drills, tired and annoyed missing the sour tang of awful American bourbon, Jake had felt a weird surge of masculine pride over it, seeing Luke take those wobbly, uneven steps towards a soft toy of a fighter jet.
He feels something very similar to that now, watching Bob lie through his teeth. Well, not through his teeth, but it's baby steps. That feels appropriate. Even Phoenix would be proud. Jake nods along solemnly, lightly squeezing the back of Bob's neck in a way that's far less reassuring and so much more congratulatory the minute Sarah says As thanks for your service.
Jake pays for it with his Amex, obviously, because he's not a douchebag. Izzie slinks back out and rings them up while Sarah starts delicately packing up the hummingbird cake in a box that's more ribbons than sense. The conversation takes a minute to wrap-up, if only because Jake says something like Want to take a selfie? and Izzie's eyes grow bright and excited, and she mumbles something about how it's a good social media opportunity for Urban Plates. His face contorts into the purest distillation of a photogenic smile at the same time he drags Bob into it, hooking yet another arm over his shoulders as he very unironically says Cheese! as the flash goes off.
By the time they leave, it's been more than twenty minutes, but less than thirty. Jake unclips his sunglasses from the front of his uniform and places them on his face and whistles merrily as they cross from storefront to parking lot. Obviously, because he has paid for it, Bob is the one stuck with carrying said cake box. ]
When you make Captain, [ Jake starts, cheerfully, ] you seriously have to thank me in your speech. I'm not kidding. I'm not settling for 'mysterious benefactor' like I'm your closet Tony Robbins.
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand up, waiting for Bob to toss him the keys to his car. ]
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He feels something very similar to that now, watching Bob lie through his teeth. Well, not through his teeth, but it's baby steps. That feels appropriate. Even Phoenix would be proud. Jake nods along solemnly, lightly squeezing the back of Bob's neck in a way that's far less reassuring and so much more congratulatory the minute Sarah says As thanks for your service.
Jake pays for it with his Amex, obviously, because he's not a douchebag. Izzie slinks back out and rings them up while Sarah starts delicately packing up the hummingbird cake in a box that's more ribbons than sense. The conversation takes a minute to wrap-up, if only because Jake says something like Want to take a selfie? and Izzie's eyes grow bright and excited, and she mumbles something about how it's a good social media opportunity for Urban Plates. His face contorts into the purest distillation of a photogenic smile at the same time he drags Bob into it, hooking yet another arm over his shoulders as he very unironically says Cheese! as the flash goes off.
By the time they leave, it's been more than twenty minutes, but less than thirty. Jake unclips his sunglasses from the front of his uniform and places them on his face and whistles merrily as they cross from storefront to parking lot. Obviously, because he has paid for it, Bob is the one stuck with carrying said cake box. ]
When you make Captain, [ Jake starts, cheerfully, ] you seriously have to thank me in your speech. I'm not kidding. I'm not settling for 'mysterious benefactor' like I'm your closet Tony Robbins.
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand up, waiting for Bob to toss him the keys to his car. ]