Relax, [Till clocks immediately, perceptive as he is to the nuance of emotions and their expressions, busying himself with some needless tidying because he's also a little anxious. it's just not apparent, with Till.]

Everything's fine.

[well. untrue. but Ivan can't possibly imagine what isn't fine; he's just confident whatever's got Ivan nervous is irrelevant versus what he should be nervous about...]

...Actually, its not really about work. Well, maybe kind of related, but...

[damn. how the fuck do you broach this topic. Till's just gone on apps cruising for dick...even if he's had like amicable dates and stuff during that, the ice was already broken because they both knew what they were there to do.

Till stares blankly at one of his script books he'd been holding during his tidying, then lifts his head to stare over at Ivan.]

Ivan. [he may as well just. be direct. right? there's no way it won't be awkward, but.] Um. Can I ask you something personal?

[this is so fucking unprofessional. especially AT work. god. he is ten fucking years older than this kid.]