Back at the restaurant space, Hallie waxes disbelieving. Graham fondly corrects her that she "always believe[s] it," or at least acts like she does, but Hallie waves a hand: "It's just an act." She walks right up to Graham: "Don't you know that? I don't know anything." Then, more quietly: "Woooww. We did it." Graham repeats the words "we did it" a couple of times, and they hug juuuust a little too long. Over Hallie's shoulder, Graham is beaming; over Graham's shoulder, Hallie is drinking Graham in. They separate. They smile. Graham's smile droops as he looks back and forth between Hallie's eyes and her lips. Hallie looks at him expectantly and starts to tilt her head for easier kiss access. Graham's head drops forward slightly, but he snaps out of it just in time and covers with, "I'm wrecked, I gotta get home." A flustered Hallie's all, sure, whatever, we'll clean up tomorrow, and they put their coats on in silence, then share another look, which Graham shies away from with, "So, I'll see ya." He leaves. Hallie, thoroughly rattled, folds her lips guiltily.
The street in front of Chase Place. Brian has circled back on his bike; Angela's still standing in the street, and she shakes it off and quavers, "Uh, Brian?" He stops, but doesn't turn around. "Brian, look at me." Resolutely, Brian turns to face her, deliberately keeping his face clear. Angela walks towards him and half-whines, "Um, that letter I told you about, um Rickie said you wrote it." Her face is literally a smear of unhappiness. Brian gulps; Angela goes on, "And I have to know because --" "Know what, there's nothing to know," Brian interrupts unconvincingly. Angela takes in that too-quick answer and studies him as he flounders through an explanation about how Rickie probably meant that Jordan asked Brian to proofread the letter "for grammatical errors." Snerf. Angela gasps, "You proofread a love letter?" and then sneers, "Is this, like, a game to you?" "Um, hardly," Brian snarks back, but Angela doesn't catch that, and she thinks she has him dead to rights: "But you admit that you were involved." "I'm not admitting anything!" Brian snaps. Angela's near tears as she wails, "This is a joke, right? That the -- the two of -- ohhh, God." Brian cringes and looks away as Angela bitches that she "can't believe [she] fell for it," adding, "It's obviously a total lie!" Without thinking, Brian says irritably, "No, I meant every word." Oops. Angela stares, and Brian realizes that he bricked and turns to face her: "I mean, the person who wrote it, meant every word. Probably." He looks away again. Angela, very quietly: "Brian?" "I didn't write it!" "But you said --" "Forget what I said!" he says almost pleadingly, glancing between Angela's face and the ground. "Forget this whole conversation!" Realization has at looooong last dawned on Angela's face as she steps closer to Brian and murmurs, "How?" Brian buries his chin in his chest and decides to 'fess up, in a way, asking, "But you liked it, though, right?" Angela considers him tenderly; he continues, "It made you, like happy?" Angela's lips tremble a bit: "Yeah." Brian nods, satisfied: "Because that's probably all that, you know matters." Although he's refusing to meet her eyes, Angela doesn't move her gaze from his face, and whispers, half in sympathy and half wanting him to come out and tell her how he feels in so many words, "To who?" No joy -- Brian shrugs and looks at her, but plays it off with, "To, you know the person. Who wrote it." Meaningful stare. It even looks like Brian miiiight try to plant one on her