Kyle finds himself surprisingly distraught at the sight of her walking away with barely more than a few parting words and feels a sense of relief when she turns around. He flashes a deliberately brilliant smile, the one that used to get him pretty much anything he wanted back in high school.

"It's called Chocolatier du Monde," he replies, his pronunciation a little too American. "I work most days."

He watches her, still smiling, standing awkwardly by the Underground and casually keeping an eye on everyone passing them. When she turns to leave again, he can't really help himself. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling enough to stop her and closing the distance between them to give her a quick peck on the edge of her mouth, half-cheek, half-lips. An innocent enough gesture as he immediately lets go of her hand and withdraws back to his own space. Still wearing that brilliant grin. "Have a good one."

And with that, he turns and, if uninterrupted, will make his way down the stairs to catch his train.