"Stuff for the government." It occurs to him that he might have said too much already. It's such a relief, though, to just say things. That he doesn't like his dad, that the feeling's mutual, that everything about his life is at least a little fucked up - it's better than sitting silently and pretending everything's fine.

And she doesn't seem to mind. She seems concerned, but not put off.

"He's high-level," he adds, since what does he do for the government is the kind of question that's easier asked than answered. "But it's not like he'd be a better father if he didn't have top-secret clearance. He's - oh. Hi."

The waitress doesn't care about anyone's shitty father. She just wants to know what they want to drink, and do they want to look at the menu a little longer.