He looked at me with wide eyes and a slightly horrified expression. “Oh God, motherfucking fuck, he’s speaking to me.” He put his hand to his forehead and glanced at the door.

The woman grabbed his arm but smiled at me. “Hi, I’m Merry. Yes, like the Hobbit. I actually spoke to you on the phone earlier this month.” She spoke and smiled like the guy freaking out beside her was an everyday occurrence. “I told you of a friend of mine who could use some encouragement. Well, this is him, this is Jordan.”

I remembered the phone call, and I made eye contact with him then and he nodded quickly and shoved out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jordan O’Neill,” he blurted. “I’m her weird friend, she should have introduced me as that, if she didn’t already tell you that on the phone. Slash awkward, introverted nerd… Geek also probably fits, though mostly for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I mean, the other Star Treks are fine and I don’t disparage anyone for liking them—Janeway and Picard are credible—but I just prefer Sisko as my captain, even though his rank was only commander in the beginning because it wasn’t technically a ship, but he was totally a captain. If we had to choose captains. Unlike literary captains, such as Dafoe’s Singleton. Good fucking Lord those barbaric times, I wouldn’t last a day.”

“Breathe, Jordan,” Merry said with a kind tone.

He took a breath, then made a face. “Sorry. I tend to babble when I’m nervous.”

“It’s fine, Jordan,” I said, trying not to smile. Because wow. “My name is Hennessy. Yes, like the cognac,” I said, mirroring Merry’s introduction.

“And I’m Jordan. Like Michael Jordan or the country Jordan. Or the cute guy from New Kids on the Block. Depends what you’re into, I guess.”

“I like all three of those Jordans,” I said with a smile. “And you’re allowed to be nervous. It’s fine and completely expected if this is your first time.”

“Well, I am nervous. Obviously. And I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be here. Well, not not supposed to be here. I’m not sure I want to be here,” he said, making a pained face again. “If I’m ready to be here.”

Merry put her hand on his arm and looked up to his face. “Jordan, just one meeting,” she said calmly. “If it’s not for you, then we never have to come back.”

He nodded again and his eyes set with determination. “Okay, okay. One meeting.”

“Jordan,” I said. “You’re more than welcome to just sit and observe. You don’t have to talk or say anything. Just listen, and when and if”—I gave him a pointed look—“if you’re ready, you can join in. Only if you want to. No pressure, okay?”