As the oh-so familiar waiter came up to take his over, the smaller boy let an awkward silence drag on for a moment, or two, or three. Now that Jonathan was up close, he had to stop an admire the view. His brother had always had a kin for the "lax" life. In his modest opinion, it was a waste. Albeit this place wasn't a McDonalds or a Starbucks or some other trashy fast-food joint, he'd always imagined when Jon had got out on his own, he'd be reaching a little... Oh, higher? He would never settle for some lame restaurant job, or that's what he told himself anyways.
No matter how much he had gone out of his way to delicately mask his appearance, he figured then and there any long wait of sorts would be somewhat of a bore. "I'll take my usual favorite," Oliver said, his tone straight and firm - about as daunting as a boy's voice of his age could have possibly been, anyways. A caramel macchiato. Simple, but sweet.
A crooked smile flashed on his face as he removed his glasses, blue eyes flashing up at the elder of the two. "You remember, don't you?"