What a sharp contrast, between the voice and the hand on his shoulder, steering him away. Jon balks, stopping in his tracks - and, despite having been well in motion towards that door, stumbles along with the hand that steers him. There's a flash of panic, a distinct recollection of what Shen Qingqiu is able to do with that hand upon the right nerves, even in a fleeting second... but that panic is overwritten by complete, utter confusion.

He's apologizing? To him? Because of Martin?

This week was getting more bizarre by the minute.

"Wh--- it's--- I-I wasn't--- thinking clearly," Jon stammers. Any composure he could've managed from the jump was scattered the second he was pulled from his task, and re-calibrating from such a certain path doesn't come as quickly as he might like. "Martin told you I was cursed? I mean, I... suppose that's one way to put it, but..."

The movement of his legs and the changing scenery finally catch up to his mind, and he takes a look behind them. The coffee shop is nearly entirely out of view. So much for that visit - it'd likely be closed by the time whatever this is has sorted itself out.

"Where are we going, exactly?"