Apparently, the manager of one of the cafés on Elm thought, "Hey, know what would be great? Putting out some chairs and tables on the sidewalk so customers can sit out in the freezing cold! Bet you a dollar that it'll draw a crowd. (Damn, I'm a genius!)"
As of yet, no crowd has materialized.
Just Matteo.

The cold has never bothered him much, and the nice empty sidewalk is, in his opinion, infinitely preferable to the crowded interior of the café. So here sits the faun, sipping at a fancy paper cup full of rapidly cooling tea, and avoiding people's eyes. He's keeping his hooves tucked under his chair and out of sight. Granted, they're well-covered by the hem of his jeans, but better safe than sorry, right?
It's the same thing with his horns. His hair is thick and dark and curly, and hides them quite well. There is absolutely no need for a covering of any kind, and yet he wears a hat.
He might be just a liiiittle bit paranoid, but given his track record,... it's justified.

Bo, despite lacking a protective coat of fur on his legs, does not mind the cold, because he's full and satisfied and has energy running through his system, which warms him in a way food-borne energy simply could not do.
For some reason, he does not make the connection between 'young man alone outside, eyes lowered' and 'young man is not interested in interacting with other members of sentient races' and sits across from Matteo, his legs crossed at the ankles, little grey-brown boots with a fluff of faux-fur at their tops covering his feet. He's wearing a sweater, but not the fluffy one, because he gave it away; it's cableknit, and rather lumpy, and a present from Keye. His hair has grown out beyond the point of short-short and is now rather endearingly floppy, the pink ends faded nearly all the way to blonde. He is, of course, smiling.
"Hallo. May I sit here?"

Matteo blinks up at him, clutching his tea close as if it'll protect him. He then tucks his hooves further under the chair and tilts his head down to make absolutely certain his horns aren't visible.

Seeing as Bo has already taken a seat, he gives a small nod and a smaller ,"Yes,... Of course."
(He could refuse and make Bo go away, but he hasn't the spine for that.)

Bo places his fingers on the table, raising the palms of his hands slightly from the cold surface and shakes a bit of hair out of his face.
"How are you?"
Talk to me, stranger. It'll be fun.

He gives Bo a quick look. It could have been called a once-over if it had lasted longer.

"...W...well, thanks."
He slurps at his tea. (Ew, lukewarm.)
"You?"

Is he frightened? This confuses Bo. He is not frightening at all, or he doesn't think so.
"I'm all right, thank you." he responds calmly and according to formula, hoping it will help. "I'm glad you're well."

'Teo gives a small, quick nod.
Of course he's frightened. He's frightened of everyone.

"Um..."
Watch, he's going to try to say something interesting.
"..."

...I did say 'try'.

"Do you come here often?" Bo will attempt to gently carry the conversation along. He's intrigued by this timid creature. He wants to draw him out. At the moment, it's mostly curiosity.

He shakes his head a few times, quickly and precisely.
Then, a few seconds later, murmurs, "No. Um. N-not really."
Pause.
"...Do you?"

"Only when I see someone interesting." This said with a half-joking smile. He isn't picking on Matteo; he is, in fact, trying to compliment him.

"Oh."
The compliment flies right over his head, initially.
When he thinks abut it, though, he thinks that it might not have been a compliment, and may instead have been a comment on his inhumanness. He has good reason to worry about being discovered. He's half-animal, for goodness' sakes.
"I, I, um... I'm not interesting," he mumbles, pushing his chair back from the table.

"Why not?"
Hm. Something odd is going on here. Bo leans back in his chair and smiles with utter confidence and, of course, obliviousness.
"You're sitting alone in the cold outside of a coffeeshop, and you don't seem to mind at all. That is interesting."
The fact that you have goat legs has nothing to do with it, as Bo hasn't even realized they're there yet.

He relaxes, just slightly.

"Oh. I thought - oh. That's not interesting."
Matteo offers the smallest of smiles.
"It's just that it's...quieter out here. Less people. Not as, um, not as crowded."

"I enjoy crowds, myself." Either way, it's perfectly fine. Don't worry so much. "Don't be shy, I'm nice. I promise."

The faun looks up, managing to keep his eyes on Bo's for a long time (five seconds) before looking away again.

"I'm sure you are."
Lots of people are nice.
Until they see the hooves and scream or stare or ask too many weird questions or whip out a crucifix or... you get the idea.
Sometimes they stay nice. Just sometimes, though.

"Don't be frightened." he leans forward, one slender hand extended to the halfway point across the table, frowning very slightly. "I'll go, if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You don't have to go," he says quickly.
He likes the company, and he knows Jonas wishes he'd make more friends. And being constantly afraid of everyone gets lonesome after a while.
"I don't, um,... I'm not t-trying to be impolite or make you leave or anything." Pause. "Just so you know. I don't talk much."

"Fair enough." he draws the hand back, but only far enough so that he doesn't have to lean. He also smiles again. "What's your name?"

"...Matteo."
He's trying to make eye contact again. It lasts for seconds at a time, and he frequently looks away, but it's slightly better than before.

"What's yours?"
Should I know you?

"Bo."
He just likes talking to strangers. Even if they turn out to be frightening, he can generally run faster.
"So what do you do?"

"You mean, like, for work?" Pause. "Or fun?"

He hopes Bo doesn't say 'fun'. He doesn't do very much besides wander around and mess about in the kitchen, trying to find out new ways to incorporate comfort foods into his everyday routine.

"Either way."
He leans back now, folding his hands and placing them across his chest. He even tips his chair slightly.

"Um. Well..."
Time to slurp at his tea again!
"...I work as a, a night watchman. There are these warehouses,... I make sure no one breaks in or anything. No one ever has,... no one ever tries, actually."

"Sounds relaxing."
Sounds hopelessly dull.
"And for fun?"

"...Not much, really."
He shrugs.
"I cook. Sort of."
Concoct, more like.

Oh, and he forgot to add, Pine after girls that he hasn't a chance with because he'll never ever ever have the guts to ask them out.
It happens so often it's almost a hobby.

"Oh, cooking!"
That's something. Yay, hope.
"What's your favorite dish?"

"Ummm..."
He screws up his face as he thinks this over. Peanut butter is his favorite, but it's not exactly something he has to prepare.
"I dunno if it has a name,... It's like this salad, sort of? Only there's only a little lettuce. It's got, um, carrots, peppers, celery - things like that. And fried tofu. And it's really good."
He's only started using the stove recently, and as it hasn't set anything on fire, he's deemed it safe.

"Sounds a little like stir-fry." Bo smiles. Vegetables are nice, friendly things. "It sounds very good."

"Sort of," 'Teo nods eagerly. "Except you don't cook the vegetables... Y'know, everyone says tofu's really bland, but it's not so bad if you cook it right."
He likes cooking, now that he's not afraid of the stove.
"..I, uh, used to eat it plain. It was kind of gross," he confides.

"I prefer bland food." he nods. "Anything else makes me sick. Mmhm, so the vegetables are crispy, hm? But the tofu is fried. Interesting."

It's amazing how much effort he puts into being self-conscious, when it's so much easier to just relax - as he's doing now.

"Yeah, the tofu would have been too soggy otherwise." He nods. You understand, Bo, of course you do. "...Most of the things I eat are bland. But I suppose that's what I get for being a vegetarian."

"Is there a reason you're a vegetarian?"
Religion? Morals? Just don't like meat?
Bo is a curious little fellow.

"I can't stand the thought of eating animals," 'Teo admits, grimacing. "I just...can't. It makes me sick."
Pause.
"Not just the cute ones. Any animal. They were once alive. Probably died painfully." He shudders. "Plants, at least, can't suffer that way."
God forbid anyone ever discovers that they do. Matteo would never eat anything ever again.

"I see." Bo grins brightly. He would like to kiss Matteo on the cheek, simply for being such a sweet fellow, but he has a feeling it would scare him.
"That makes sense. That's very...not many people have that kind of willpower."

"It's... I don't know if I'd call it willpower," he replies, smirking wryly.
He is very glad that Bo hasn't accused him of being a self-righteous hippy (someone called him that once, in a very nasty tone) or anything like that. People seem to think he's trying to make them feel bad for not doing as he does.
"The thought of eating meat makes me kind of sick. It's not something I'd ever want to do."

"I suppose I'd call it compassion."
Which is not a bad quality in the least.
"I'm glad I met you, Matteo."

He blushes, tilting hs head downwards so that the shadow cast by the brim of his hat does a passable job of hiding his face.
"...Thanks?" he ventures, unsure of the appropriate response.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replies, spreading his arms effusively. "I am very fond of people, and I greatly enjoy meeting particularly nice ones."

"...I'm not particularly nice," Matteo protests weakly. "I just... don't like to hurt things if I can help it."
From his point of view, that doesn't make him very nice. Nice people do nice things. He's just not doing something harmful, and that doesn't count.

"Then you have more sense than most."
Take a compliment, silly boy.