[ Rafe is the one wearing pomade and black clothing while purposefully seeking out someone just to finish a conversation he found unsatisfying, but sure, Nate is the one overreacting about how absolutely fucking weird this is. Never mind the fact they've had a couple mildly civil interactions, there's still too much unresolved in the murky water between them and even Nate's adventurous diving habits have a fraction of self-preservation.

He watches Rafe with a thin, unamused expression for the tone of voice that sounds like something a stressed adult might use to address a five year old. Nate isn't an idiot, and he's been in a place like this once before, for years. Rafe doesn't know the half of it, thinks he has it all figured out, probably assumes he can file everything neatly in his mental cabinet of Shit To Deal With.

Sooner or later he's going to learn just how small small really is. ]

So...what, exactly? You want me to be okay with you cozying up to people I like when I know how you operate? [ Perhaps surprisingly, there's no venom in his voice, but calm resignation. ] I'll just pretend you didn't spend a little over a month trying to kill me after nearly getting my idiot brother killed fifteen years ago, and- well. Guess you already accomplished the former, didn't you. We can just shake hands and wave at each other across the potluck.