He has trouble suppressing the smile so he doesn’t bother; the graze of her lips is more than he’d been expecting, pleasure at the familiar gesture warming him. Gently, he squeezes her hip, catching her fingers for a moment before stepping away to fulfill the order. A tea latte and an americano (black), but also a muffin (Maria’s preference) to munch on, and he slips into the seat across from her. The coffee is placed to her right, eyebrow raised in question at the misbehaving phone; he slips the plate to the middle, set evenly between them, the implication obvious.
Bruce’s cup stays on the table, shifting slightly against the top as his fingers push at it gently. She gets a huff of appreciative amusement, for the comment, eyes sliding up briefly before he looks back down, nodding,
“Ezra.” He leans forward, trying to verbalize his thoughts, the muddled mess of emotions he currently feels, forearms on the table as he pulls a small piece from the muffin to occupy his fingers. Shoulders hunched in, too used to trying to disappear, and it only adds to the image of his uncertainty over the whole thing. “But that’s not the strange part.”
“Pepper asked me to be godfather.”
She’s watching him- reading the tics and tells of his body language. The slight press of fingertips against the cup with no apparent reason ( he’s fidgeting, working his way around whatever it is he’s going to say ), the way his gaze rises and falls, holding hers only fleetingly before he’s studying the table again.
It’d been a joke, casually delivered as is their custom. She hadn’t expected his ensuing answer to be so SERIOUS ( because the implications of being named GOD-FATHER are deliberate and weighty ), but his obvious uncertainty is incredibly endearing. Maria bites back a grin, dropping a hand from the cup to rest a forearm on the table, fingertips stretched out to brush the edge of his hand. “And what’d you say?” Hill knows it doesn’t matter what his answer had been- Pepper wasn’t the type to simply accept ‘no thank you’ with a request of this magnitude. If she and Tony had landed on a decision, no doubt it’d been hard-won and she wouldn’t expect the blonde to accept anything less than exactly what they’d decided.
The tilt of her head, brows high while she’s trying to catch his eye, mouth pressed into a line against the smile working at its corners. “Congratulations.”