The coffee had sufficiently distracted him from noticing when Mia casually let something slip he'd rather keep hidden. She used to do that when they were dating, too, wait to drop bombshells until he was deep in the dance with a beautiful dark lady.

It wasn't until Flonne blurted out some baffling combination of the two that he finally noticed-- and midway through a long sip of coffee, too, choking and spitting out a fine brown mist that was luckily pointed away from anyone else.

"Ang-" he coughed and quickly grabbed a napkin, awkwardly mopping up. "Angel, sweetheart... s'pronounced Godot," he corrected, voice the slightest bit shaky. Well, this wouldn't end well. Mia would probably give him that look she always used on him and emphatically insist that Flonne call him... ugh. Pseudonyms weren't as easy to use as the movies always made them seem.

"But," he recovered quickly, "Well-deciphered. I'm afraid I'm a little visually impaired regarding colors... red in particular."