They really hadn't stopped to think about it—mostly, what they'd figured was that the one thing they both had in common was a fondness for this particular restaurant, since Meredith's idea of a fun night out is significantly different from Noctis's, which tends to take place inside, on the couch, playing a video game. And Noctis has not thought about Valentine's Day in years beyond jokingly bemoaning his singlehood.

So the waiter coming by with a bottle of wine had been appreciated, because it's been a long goddamn week. The live band descending on them to play music? Significantly less appreciated. But hey, at least the week can't get worse, he supposes.

He sighs, shakes his head. "It's fine," he says, tugging the collar of his jacket up absently. Probably the jacket and History's Hitmen T-shirt should've been a great big clue to them, who comes to a date wearing their ratty old fandom shirt? "Should've realized it myself, honestly. It's just been a weird week, you know? But I'm fine. Let's just eat hot dogs at the nearest stall."