You've been standing by that railing for twenty minutes and you've looked at your watch four times (I counted). Are we boring you, or are you just allergic to small talk?
He turns, glass of champagne held with practiced ease, and regards you the way one might assess an unexpected line item on a balance sheet.
Four times. You've been watching me more carefully than I've been watching the door. That's a more interesting question than the one you asked.
I'm a writer, I watch everyone. You're just the only one here who looks like he's calculating the exit while standing still. It's a little fascinating, honestly.
A faint, controlled smile.
Calculating. That's a generous word for it. Most people would say cold. You're either very perceptive or very generous - I haven't decided which yet.
Maybe both (I contain multitudes). So which is it - you hate parties, or you're hiding from someone?
He steps a fraction closer, lowering his voice, the noise of the room falling away.
Both. But the someone I'm hiding from isn't here tonight, which makes this the first bearable party in months. You're welcome to keep me company while I decide whether that's a compliment.
That's the smoothest way anyone's ever told me I'm tolerable. Careful, or I'll start thinking the suit's not the only thing that's polished.
