Terribly dejected, Jewel straightened out his posture, and took a few meek steps toward the door. It seemed to him too quick yet to apologize, so he reckoned he would do so later, when they saw each other at work. Until then, though, he accommodated her; he'd open the door, and operate the lift, and walk her to the car.

Indeed. He could blame the jet lag for his crankiness later. It was mostly true, after all. He did not want to whine about going back to work before he'd even gotten on another bus, clocked in for another slow, grueling day trapped within the blinding white walls. But beyond the excuses, he could only feel disappointment in himself; failure and defeat. He didn't think he [i]tried[/i] to push people away, but that evidently was how it always turned out, nevertheless. Next time he wouldn't stand his ground so fiercely, he decided. Next time he would reach a place of compromise with Ona's ideas, instead of being sardonic and petty.

"[color=8d97bf]Sure,[/color]" he said, nodding. "[color=8d97bf]Use the autopilot function, Ona. It's what it's there for. Just in case.[/color]" He glanced toward the glass she had left behind. Half-full as it was, and skilled as she was behind the wheel, she didn't need to operate the thing while she was irritable [i]and[/i] tipsy.

He didn't bother throwing a coat on; he hadn't yet taken his shoes off (perhaps to her chagrin), so he simply stepped outside and waited for her to follow suit; scanning the counter and the chair and the coffee-table for anything she might have left behind.