[ Jefferson sits up again, twisting in his seat, getting right up on his knees so that he can lean over the partition and get in Sam's space, seething in the other man's ear: ]
I'm not a joke!
[ You know, because he is the Mad Hatter-- no. No. No he's not. (Yes, you are.)
A waitress clears her throat, and Jefferson looks up sharply, then his eyes dart over to the notice posted by the diner's entrance. Ah. Right. Almost sheepishly, he twists back around and slumps down in his booth, hands gripping the table as he stares down at the magazine he'd been trying to read before. ]
Sorry.
[ He may not be looking at you, Sam, but the apology's directed at you, anyway, delivered in a dull, defeated sort of voice. ]
no subject
I'm not a joke!
[ You know, because he is the Mad Hatter-- no. No. No he's not. (Yes, you are.)
A waitress clears her throat, and Jefferson looks up sharply, then his eyes dart over to the notice posted by the diner's entrance. Ah. Right. Almost sheepishly, he twists back around and slumps down in his booth, hands gripping the table as he stares down at the magazine he'd been trying to read before. ]
Sorry.
[ He may not be looking at you, Sam, but the apology's directed at you, anyway, delivered in a dull, defeated sort of voice. ]