Yes, precisely, though even this may be a little less bitter. I normally would do it with slower brewed coffee, but in the absence of the means to do it, an Americano seems apt, I would think.

[But it's good, that he's talking about coffee; it's a reminder that sure, he's young but he's not a kid kid, which is for the better once America starts bringing up the other... things.

Once the espresso shots are brewed, he slows a little, giving the first filter a whack to empty the grounds into the garbage. Hearing America go quieter, the second filter doesn't get as harsh of a hit.]

It's... of course, I understand. [He swallows, having largely avoided eye contact under the guise of working on those coffees, but now the ice cream is in the cups and the shots have been cooled with water and poured over and stirred and he hands America his serving, running over to a tin to take a wafer and put it on top. And by then there's no excuse to look away anymore, is there? He catches America's eye finally, warm, if not outright smiling.]

Likewise. I am pleased that you're back.

[There's a pleasant memory of squeezing at the other man's hips and his eyes drift down to that area momentarily, but that's undignified and he spoons a little ice cream into his own mouth, walking towards the table, pulling out a chair for America.]