Faolan turns in place, confused for a moment that someone might have mistaken him for another person -- people do that, it's not often that they're looking for Faolan himself. But that accent, that red hair. He recognizes this girl. And apparently she recognizes him.

And apparently she actually was looking for a call. Shit. Faolan does his best to keep his face stoic, not looking for trouble, or drama for that matter, on the crowded train platform, not knowing how long he's still going to have to be waiting here after the fact.

"I've still got it," he tells her. And he does, for that matter. Tucked away in the same pocket of his jacket that he'd put it in when she'd given it to him. "Don't tell me you've been holding out for me, though. I know you could do better." He huddles around his coffee, taking another sip as he does. Mr Grumpy indeed.