In his heart of hearts, Dave knows that Dirk can't promise him anything. Maybe being dead gives you blood clots for all he knows. Then again he's met several doctors and one of which he's betting would help him without much prompting. She's also hot as hell so he's betting he can use that to his advantage getting Dirk there maybeprobablymaybenot. If he can't admit it to himself right now, he's sure not going to admit to Dirk that he actually does need him. He needs him for a lot of things like proving once and for all that either he hates him for ruining his gigolo life before he became a sex industry mogul and didn't need it. Or he's been wrong and God he hopes he's wrong. He feels thirteen all over again trying to prove himself one way or another when really he doesn't have to and wishes his brain wasn't against him in the process of it.

"Res..." he tilts his head, eyes slitting behind his glasses and the posture says enough for someone like Dirk who's lived his life seeing past shades. "If it's not ethnic food and doesn't include sum yung gai I'm fuckin' rioting and not helping." Restaurants sound really safe. Safe and like he won't have to explain to anyone... Who's he kidding? He knows Dirk is going to do something with it. It'll just be a matter of sitting back and watching as the irony master worked his magic.

Dave really wishes that the other nineteen questions were the question that Dirk asked him and not about Cal. It's not easy to answer. "Nothing. He's the same as he always has been." It's not a lie. Not exactly. "Just he isn't here." If he gets caught in his white lie, then he gets caught in his white lie. It's true, though, that Dirk just seems to know things. "Why? Missing your girlfriend?"