That is good. It should be. It has to be.
He picks a table as far inside as possible, with a clear view of all visible ways out, including the windows. It's a habit he doesn't plan on breaking anytime soon. He isn't hungry; hasn't been in a few days, so he orders a cup of hot cocoa when a plump, smiling waitress comes by their table. She doesn't look too surprised. It's chilly out, and even a man Simon's age is allowed to have a sweet tooth after all. She turns to Apollo, to take his order, pen and pad at the ready.