The single other remaining open stool was abruptly occupied only seconds after Jo began heading towards it. There had to be other pubs nearby, or perhaps her hotel might have been able to provide her with some sort of minimalistic meal. She didn't need much, hell a few crackers would do if need be. It wasn't as though she had days before she returned home, Jo could be hungry for twelve hours or so.

She made it a few feet from him when she heard Alfred instruct her to come back. The stubborn, petulant and (quite frankly hurt) part of her initially refused. If he continued to harbor the resentment brewed during the blizzard then what was the use of trying? Why should she bother pretending to be civil throughout a difficult small talk filled conversation? Alfred didn't want her friendship anymore (which upset her greatly but Jo understood his reasoning) so why did he insist on dragging it out? Why not allow her to walk away?

(The letter last week betrayed how heavily he supposedly missed her. Its raw vulnerability had nearly caused her to confess her thoughts regarding how their relationship might have progressed without Zelda or Zach's influence. This wasn't to say she had hoped they might move in that direction, for she genuinely didn't find him to be attractive anymore, but the potential had existed once. The spark created by those first shared drinks could have led to more if circumstances were different. Only, the circumstances weren't different. And, more importantly, Jo didn't want them to be.)

"No, you just resent the very air I breathe now." Jo muttered, heading back towards him despite her reluctance. "I'll go as soon as I've eaten. You don't have to talk to me."

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