The Course of Second Dates

He's on time this time, at least. And he has Magnus's shirt, neatly folded, in his hand. He'd thought about keeping it, but that seemed silly somehow. He wasn't ever going to wear it. (And he wasn't sure he'd ever tell Magnus that he lent it to Cecil. He had it back now, and it was clean.)

He clears his throat quietly and tugs at his shirt, another blue one, a sweater this time, but one Izzy had given him, so it was mostly free of holes and not too faded. He thinks he probably shouldn't be so nervous. It had gone really well last time, once they'd gotten through dinner.

Still, his hand is trembling a little when he presses the buzzer.