Regan didn't know what happened to him to be honest. One moment he was riding on his bike, speeding through the busy city, and making a conversation with a girl at the quiet jazz club that he loved, and now she was here, and she was his girlfriend.

"Mmhm"

Regan answered with a little noise, not really listening to you but instead looking at the little expressions you make as you complained about life. The way you scoff, the way your eyebrows furrow. God, he had never looked more like a lovesick fool, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.