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Four days later, Emily found herself standing in front of a hotel mirror wondering what exactly had gone wrong with her life. Not in any serious sense.
There were, objectively speaking, several things currently going wrong with her life. An increasingly organised vampire network. Miranda. The growing possibility that half of Europe seemed determined to build a supernatural version of middle management.
Those were real problems. This was different.
Emily stared at her reflection.
Black trousers.
White shirt.
Black bustier layered neatly over it.
Practical.
Reasonable.
Entirely appropriate.
Her hair was pinned into a neat chignon. An objectively terrible decision. It made her look like she had made an effort.
Which was hardly the message she wanted to send to someone she absolutely was not interested in.
She adjusted the collar. Looked at it. Adjusted it again. And immediately became annoyed with herself.
This was ridiculous.
She wasn't getting ready for a date.
She was meeting a source.
A source who knew Miranda.
A source with information.
A source potentially useful to the investigation.
And, admittedly, attractive.
Which remained entirely irrelevant.
She checked the time.
Twenty-seven minutes.
Not that she was counting.
Emily picked up her phone. A message waited on the screen.
Andy.
Of course.
Emily had made the mistake of giving her number to a vampire four nights ago.
In hindsight, that decision probably belonged somewhere on a list.
A very long list.
One titled: Things Emily Would Prefer Nigel Never Hear About.
The message read:
Looking forward to tonight :)
Emily stared at it. Then typed:
Okay.
She sent it. Three dots appeared almost immediately.
That was an alarmingly enthusiastic response.
Emily considered several answers. Eventually she settled on:
It accurately reflects my feelings.
The reply arrived less than ten seconds later.
Terrifying.
Emily felt the corner of her mouth twitch. It disappeared immediately.
A second message appeared.
I'm choosing to interpret that as excitement :)
Emily ignored it. Not because she wanted to. Principally because responding would encourage her.
Her phone rang in her hand. Emily looked at the screen. Then closed her eyes.
"Nigel."
The call continued.
She answered.
"No."
A pause.
"I haven't said anything yet."
"You called me."
"That's fair."
Emily sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Nigel."
"Emily."
A familiar silence settled between them, not awkward, just dangerous.
Nigel only sounded this cheerful when he was about to become a problem. Sure enough:
"I'll be in Paris tomorrow."
Emily froze.
"No."
"Already booked."
"Nigel."
"I'm staying for three days."
"Nigel."
"I thought we could have dinner."
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I am busy."
"With work?"
"Yes."
"Or with the vampire?"
Emily closed her eyes again. Somewhere in New York, Nigel laughed. He didn't even try to hide it.
"There is no vampire."
"Oh good."
Emily frowned.
"Good?"
"That would have complicated introductions."
Emily stood up.
"Nigel."
"I'm just saying, if there were a vampire-"
"There isn't."
"-I'd like to meet her."
Emily disconnected. Immediately. The phone rang again. She declined it.
A message appeared moments later.
See you tomorrow.
A second followed.
Try not to fall in love before I get there.
Emily stared at the screen. Then threw the phone onto the bed. The phone, unfortunately, survived.
Outside, Paris remained grey, damp, and irritating.
She still had twenty minutes before she needed to leave. Plenty of time. Not enough time.
Not enough time.
The distinction felt concerning.
For a moment she stood motionless in the middle of the room. Then she reached for her coat.
After all, Andy knew Miranda. That was the only reason she was doing this.
Obviously.
The restaurant was, predictably, a terrible idea. Emily knew it the moment the taxi stopped. Actually, she had known it several minutes earlier, when the driver had crossed a bridge and entered a part of Paris where every building seemed determined to remind people how much money existed in the world. The confirmation merely arrived in architectural form.
Gold, chandeliers, marble, valets lining the street. Soft lighting visible even through the windows. The sort of place where water probably cost more than rent. Emily stared through the taxi window.
"Oh, for God's sake."
The driver glanced at her in the mirror. Emily ignored him. Nothing about this felt reasonable. She had known Andy exactly for two weeks. No one needed chandeliers for that.
Emily paid the driver, stepped out into the cold evening air, and immediately spotted Andy. Of course she had arrived early.
Andy was standing near the entrance, speaking briefly with a member of staff, her fingers absently fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve.
Then she looked up.
Saw Emily.
And smiled.
The transformation was immediate.
Warm.
Genuine.
Entirely too bright.
For one deeply irritating second, Emily forgot what she was about to say. Because Andy looked unfair. There was really no other word for it.
The black shirt was semi-transparent beneath the restaurant lights, tailored far too well for Emily's peace of mind. High-waisted velvet trousers sat perfectly against her frame, held up by black-and-white suspenders that should have looked ridiculous and instead looked unfairly good.
The entire outfit looked effortless. Which was annoying.
Andy noticed her staring. Emily looked away immediately.
Too late. A grin appeared.
"Oh no."
Emily narrowed her eyes.
"Oh no what?"
"You’re doing that thing again."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The thing where you look at me and immediately become annoyed."
"I was annoyed before I arrived."
"That's fair."
Andy laughed softly.
God.
That laugh was becoming a problem.
She crossed the remaining distance between them. Up close, Andy somehow looked even worse. Or better.
Unfortunately.
"Hi."
The word came out warmer than Emily intended.
Andy visibly brightened. Actually brightened. Like someone had turned on a lamp.
"Hi."
A brief silence followed. Not uncomfortable. Just oddly charged.
Emily found herself noticing things she shouldn't.
The faint scent of perfume.
The way Andy kept shifting her weight.
The fact that she seemed nervous.
That last one surprised her.
"Nervous?" Emily asked.
Andy blinked.
"What?"
"You're nervous."
The denial appeared immediately.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
Andy opened her mouth. Closed it. Then sighed.
"A little."
Emily felt strangely pleased by the admission. Andy pointed toward the restaurant entrance.
"Should we?"
Emily looked up at the building again. Then at Andy. Then back at the building.
"This is absurd."
"What is?"
Emily gestured vaguely at everything.
"The restaurant."
Andy looked confused.
"You don't like it?"
"That's not the issue."
"It feels like the issue."
"The issue," Emily informed her, "is that we've met two times."
Andy blinked."...Okay."
"And yet somehow we're having dinner in a place that looks like it charges extra for oxygen."
That earned a laugh.
A real one.
Warm.
Immediate.
Emily hated how much she liked that sound.
"It's not that bad."
"There is a man opening car doors outside."
"That's called a valet."
"Exactly."
Andy shook her head, still smiling.
"You are impossible."
"So I've been told."
Eventually she pushed open the door and gestured for Emily to enter first.
The lobby was somehow even worse.
Crystal chandeliers.
Fresh flowers.
Polished marble.
This felt like something Miranda would approve of.
The thought arrived without warning.
Emily hated that.
Andy was watching her again.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That wasn't a convincing nothing."
Emily sighed.
"This place feels expensive."
Andy looked around.
Then shrugged.
"It is."
"Good."
"Good?"
"At least we're being honest."
That earned another laugh.
The hostess appeared moments later and guided them through the restaurant. Emily's concerns increased with every step.
Small tables.
Dim lighting.
Private corners.
A view overlooking the city.
She looked away from the window.
This was not helping.
Not remotely.
When they finally sat down, Andy looked almost embarrassed. Emily immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
Andy stared at the menu. Then at her. Then back at the menu.
"Nothing."
Emily narrowed her eyes.
"Andrea."
"Oh, come on."
"What?"
A pause. Andy looked away. Then muttered:
"My friend picked the restaurant."
Emily blinked.
"Your friend."
"Yes."
"What friend?"
Andy immediately regretted answering. Emily could see it happen in real time.
"My friend."
"Remarkably informative."
"Thank you."
Emily folded her arms. Andy sighed.
"Damn it." The answer arrived several seconds later. "Lily."
Emily stared at her.
Andy sighed. "My friend from the States. The one I told you about."
"Lily chose this?"
"Yes."
"And what exactly did Lily think this was?"
Andy froze. Only for a second.
Long enough.
Emily stared.
Andy stared back. Then immediately became fascinated by the wine list.
"Oh my God."
Andy's face disappeared behind the menu.
"Please don't."
"Oh my God."
"Emily."
"Your friend thought this was a date."
"No."
"She absolutely thought this was a date."
Andy's silence was devastating. Emily leaned back in her chair. For the first time all evening, she felt genuinely delighted.
"Andrea."
"Stop enjoying this."
"I wasn't aware I was."
"You are."
"Maybe."
Andy's groan was immediate. The sound was so catastrophically embarrassed that Emily nearly laughed.
Nearly.
And somehow, despite everything.
The restaurant.
The investigation.
Miranda.
The network.
The fact that she was sitting across from a vampire she was theoretically supposed to be using for information. Emily realized she was having fun.
Which was, without question, the most concerning development of the evening.
"Did Lily actually pick this place?"
"Yes."
"Your friend is insane."
"That's not even the most expensive option she suggested."
Emily looked horrified. Andy laughed.
"I'm serious."
"Jesus."
A waiter appeared before either of them could continue the argument. Emily suspected this was intentional. People probably sensed when conversations were becoming entertaining and intervened accordingly.
Menus were distributed. Water appeared. Someone explained the specials.
Neither of them listened.
The waiter eventually departed. Andy finally set her menu aside. For a moment, she simply looked at Emily.
Which was suspicious.
Emily narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
Andy smiled. "Nothing."
"That's never true."
"It is this time."
"Liar."
The accusation arrived automatically. Andy looked delighted. Emily immediately regretted speaking. The smile that followed suggested she'd just won something. Emily hated that.
For a moment, silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just quieter.
The restaurant hummed softly around them. Glasses clinked somewhere nearby. A piano drifted through the room from a distant corner.
Andy rested her chin against one hand.
"You look different tonight."
Emily looked up.
"Different how?"
Andy hesitated. That was unusual. Normally the words arrived before the thought.
"The hair."
Emily blinked. "My hair."
"Yeah."
Instinctively, her hand moved toward the chignon.
"Oh."
"I've never seen it up before."
Something unreadable crossed Andy's expression before disappearing again. Emily suddenly became aware of the back of her neck. Which was ridiculous.
"You noticed."
Andy looked confused. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's different?"
Emily stared. Andy stared back.
"You've seen me twice."
"Three times."
"Today doesn't count."
"It absolutely counts."
Emily rolled her eyes. Andy smiled. There it was again. That irritating ability to win arguments she wasn't actually having.
A waiter returned to take their order. Emily selected something expensive out of principle. Andy appeared to have made her decision sometime before arriving. A moment later, they were left alone again.
Emily folded her arms.
"So."
Andy immediately pointed.
"No."
"What?"
"That's my word."
"I wasn't aware you owned it."
"You clearly can't be trusted with it."
Emily ignored her. "What exactly do you do?"
Andy groaned.
"Emily."
"What?"
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
The answer came immediately.
"Ask normal questions and somehow make them feel like an interrogation."
Emily felt mildly pleased by that.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Liar."
The accusation was casual. Affectionate, somehow.
Emily wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Andy picked up her water glass.
"I work in operations."
Emily stared.
"Operations."
"Yes."
"That's not a real job."
"It absolutely is."
"It sounds fake."
Andy laughed.
"It's not fake."
"Define it."
The smile lingered.
"My boss comes up with impossible plans."
Emily immediately thought of Miranda. Andy continued.
"I make sure those plans actually happen."
That sounded alarmingly plausible.
"And your boss does this internationally?"
"Unfortunately."
"Three countries at once, if I remember correctly."
Something flickered across Andy's face.
Surprise.
Brief.
Gone almost immediately.
"You remembered that."
For a second, Andy looked absurdly pleased. Emily found that reaction disproportionately irritating.
"I remember things."
"Apparently."
The reply came softer than expected. For a moment, Andy studied her.
Not looked.
Studied.
The realization felt strangely familiar. Emily suddenly understood why she'd made Andy uncomfortable during their first meeting.
Then Andy frowned slightly.
"Can I ask you something?"
Emily immediately became suspicious.
"That depends."
"On?"
"The question."
Andy smiled.
"Fair."
For a moment, she seemed to be considering her words. Which, for Andy, was concerning. Usually they arrived unsupervised. When she finally spoke, the question caught Emily completely off guard.
"Have I done something?"
Emily blinked.
"What?"
Andy shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Very compelling start."
"I'm serious."
Emily waited. Andy stared into her glass for a second. Then back at Emily.
"Sometimes it feels like you disappear."
Emily's stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know." Andy immediately looked annoyed with herself. "Okay, that's not helpful."
"No."
"But you do."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Leave."
The answer sounded ridiculous. Andy seemed aware of that. Because she immediately tried again.
"Not physically."
"Good to know."
"I'm trying."
"Poorly," Emily replied.
That earned a brief laugh. Then Andy's expression softened again.
"Sometimes we're talking and it's like you stop being here for a second."
Emily said nothing. Andy continued.
"Usually when we talk about work."
Andy hesitated.
"Or when certain people come up."
There it was.
Emily felt something cold settle quietly beneath her ribs. Her grip tightened slightly around the stem of her glass.
"So now you're profiling me?"
Andy groaned.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You did it again."
"I did nothing."
"You absolutely did."
Emily lifted her glass.
"I think you're imagining things."
Andy hummed softly. "Maybe."
The answer arrived a moment later than it should have. Like she didn't quite believe it herself.
The food arrived before either of them could continue.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Emily was genuinely grateful to see the interruption. Plates appeared. Glasses shifted. Someone wished them a pleasant evening before disappearing once more.
The table wasn't particularly small. Somehow, Andy still managed to brush Emily's hand reaching for her glass. Neither of them acknowledged it.
Emily became aggressively interested in her food.
Across the table, Andy appeared equally fascinated by her wine.
The distraction didn't seem entirely convincing. Which was unfortunate. Because Emily had the distinct impression that if Andy kept paying attention, she might eventually start noticing things she wasn't supposed to.
And that was a problem. Not an immediate one. Which somehow made it more dangerous.
Andy watched Emily across the table.
She didn’t think Emily was stupid. Emily seemed to think she was. Not consciously. It wasn’t something Emily would ever say out loud. If asked, she would probably deny it immediately. Smoothly. Politely. With that slightly irritated look she got when conversations went somewhere she hadn’t planned.
Andy had noticed that look before. More than once. Emily always did it.
Not the irritation itself.
The adjustment.
Like she was constantly correcting something mid-thought. As if the world kept trying to say something to her that she refused to fully hear.
Andy wasn’t stupid.
Emily didn’t act like most people. That was the simplest way to put it.
Most people changed in certain places.
They reacted.
Too much, or not enough.
They hesitated when things felt wrong.
They looked around when they shouldn’t.
Emily didn’t.
Emily adapted. Quickly. Too quickly. She fit into rooms like this one the same way she had fit into the catacombs. And the event before that.
Different places.
Same result.
Not lost.
Not impressed.
Just… aligned.
Like she had already decided what kind of person she needed to be before walking in. Andy wasn’t sure what that meant. But she was sure it meant something.
It became more obvious whenever Miranda came up. That was the easiest way to see it.
Andy didn’t bring her up often. On purpose. But when she did, Emily reacted.
Not dramatically.
Never dramatically.
That wasn’t her style. It was smaller than that. Subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice.
But Andy did.
The shift was immediate. Emily’s attention sharpened, like something in the room had suddenly become relevant.
Her posture adjusted slightly.
Her focus narrowed.
Not away from Andy. Through her. As if Andy had briefly become a surface for something else entirely.
Then it passed.
Carefully contained again.
Folded back into place.
Like nothing had happened at all.
Andy studied her over the rim of her glass. There was something there. Something tightly controlled.
Not fear.
Not avoidance.
Something closer to… calculation.
And that should have made things clearer. It didn’t. It only made them more confusing. Because Emily didn’t behave like someone with something to hide. She behaved like someone who already knew what mattered.
Emily lifted one hand to get the attention of a passing waiter. And everything immediately stopped being important.
The movement pulled her sleeve back slightly.
Exposed the line of her wrist.
The curve of her neck.
Andy stared. For exactly one second. Then two. Then immediately looked away.
God.
The chignon had been a terrible idea.
Emily didn’t react immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was very mild:
"You’re doing that thing again."
Andy blinked. "What thing?"
"The thing where you stop paying attention."
"I’m paying attention."
"Are you?"
The question was light, almost amused. Andy hesitated. That was enough of an answer. Emily’s mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile, more like she had confirmed something.
"You’re easy to read," she said.
Andy frowned. "I am not."
"You are."
"I’m really not."
Emily leaned back slightly in her chair, like she was settling into the conversation, like she had all the time in the world. Andy tried to focus. She really did.
Emily was speaking, something about... She lost it.
Because Emily tilted her head slightly while talking, and the movement exposed the line of her neck again. Unconsciously, Andy stared. Just for a second, then longer, too long. Her thoughts didn’t help. They never did in moments like this.
Focus fractured.
Heat rising somewhere inconvenient.
The image arrived uninvited.
Fangs.
Too close.
Too easy.
Andy blinked hard. Straightened slightly. Emily was still talking.
"Andy?"
No response.
"Andrea?"
That one landed harder. Andy snapped her attention back.
"What?"
Emily studied her. Not concerned, not alarmed, just curious.
"You weren’t listening."
"I was."
"No, you weren’t."
"I was distracted."
"By what?"
Andy paused. For half a second too long. Finally, carefully: "Nothing."
Emily tilted her head again. That same angle. That same neck. Andy looked away immediately.
Bad idea.
"That’s not convincing," Emily said.
"I don’t need to be convincing."
"You kind of do."
"Why?"
"Because otherwise I’m going to assume you’re just bad at this."
Andy frowned.
"Bad at what?"
"Conversations."
A beat, then softer:
"Or you’re thinking about something else entirely."
Andy forced herself to look at her. Emily’s expression was calm, almost entertained. Andy swallowed.
This was getting harder.
To focus.
To think.
To stay normal.
Emily sighed lightly. "Try again."
"What?"
"Pay attention."
The words should have been simple. They weren’t. Because Emily said them like it was easy. Like Andy had been the one drifting.
Like she wasn’t the one making it impossible to think straight.
Emily didn’t wait for an answer. She reached for her glass at the same moment Andy did. It wasn’t intentional. It shouldn’t have meant anything.
Their hands brushed.
Again.
Lightly.
Barely there.
Still enough.
Andy froze.
Completely. For half a second too long.
And in that moment, she noticed it: Emily’s heartbeat.
It shifted.
Just slightly.
Faster.
Then immediately steady again. Like it had corrected itself. As if nothing had happened at all.
Emily withdrew her hand at the same time.
Composed.
Controlled.
"Sorry," she said, without sounding sorry.
Andy stared at her. Emily raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Andy reached for her glass again, more carefully this time. Too carefully.
The moment still lingered.
Unhelpfully so.
And worse, Emily looked completely unaffected. As if Andy had imagined the entire thing. Which was absurd. Because Andy had definitely not imagined it.
She exhaled slowly.
Emily leaned back slightly.
"So," she said.
Andy blinked. "What."
Emily tilted her head.
"About your work..."
There it was again. Andy let out a short laugh. Of course that was where this was going. She stared at Emily for a second.
Then at the table.
Then back at Emily.
"Are you serious right now?"
Emily didn’t look amused. "I am asking a question."
"It feels like an interview."
"It’s a conversation."
"It feels like a job interview."
Emily frowned slightly.
"I don’t see the difference."
Andy laughed once. Incredulous.
"Right. Of course you don’t."
Her mind was still stuck on the moment.
Her neck.
The brush of skin.
The heartbeat that had spiked and then vanished like it had never existed.
And now this.
Work.
Questions.
Control.
Andy leaned back in her chair. "What is this," she muttered.
"What is what?"
"This entire evening."
Emily blinked. "Dinner."
Andy gestured between them.
"No. This is not dinner. This is… I don’t know. Surveillance? A performance review? An interrogation disguised as fine dining?"
That earned her a look. Small. Measured. Emily’s voice stayed calm.
"You are distracted again."
"I’m not distracted."
"You are."
"I’m trying to eat."
"You are barely eating."
Andy opened her mouth. Closed it. Then leaned forward slightly, voice lower without meaning to.
"You know what’s insane?"
Emily’s gaze stayed steady. Andy continued before she could stop herself.
"I was actually happy when you gave me your number."
Emily didn't react immediately. But something shifted anyway. Subtle.
Her heartbeat.
Just slightly.
Then settled again.
Andy continued before she could stop herself.
"I thought we'd actually get to know each other."
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
God.
That sounded far more honest than intended.
Across the table, Emily looked at her.
Not uncomfortable.
Not dismissive.
Just... uncertain.
Which somehow felt stranger.
A few seconds passed.
Then Emily set down her glass.
"Okay."
Andy blinked.
"Okay?"
"You wanted to get to know me."
The statement sounded oddly formal.
Emily continued anyway.
"Ask me something."
Andy stared.
"What?"
"A personal question."
"You're serious?"
"You said that was the objective."
The suspicion arrived immediately. Andy narrowed her eyes.
"What's the catch?"
Emily looked genuinely confused.
"There isn't one."
"There is always one."
A pause.
"You answer one too."
And there it was. Andy almost laughed.
Of course.
Of course Emily's solution to emotional intimacy was a structured exchange of information.
For a moment she considered pointing that out. Instead she leaned back slightly.
"...You're serious."
"Yes."
Andy shook her head. "Incredible."
Emily ignored that. "So?"
Andy studied her for a second longer. Then smiled.
"Fine."
Emily nodded once.
"Rules?"
"God, of course there are rules."
"There should be."
Andy laughed despite herself. And somehow, that was how it started.
" Six questions, three each. One question at a time. Alternate. No interruptions."
Emily’s gaze sharpened slightly.
"Categories."
Andy blinked.
"What?"
Emily gestured lightly.
"Work and personal. You ask personal, I answer. I ask work, you answer."
Andy stared at her.
"...you are insane."
Emily didn’t react.
"Is that a no."
Andy sighed.
"No. That’s a yes."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she pointed slightly at Emily.
"But I start."
Emily gestured once.
"Fine."
Andy leaned forward a little. Her expression shifted. More focused now. Less playful.
"First question."
Emily waited. Andy tilted her head.
"Do you always look like you’re one conversation away from deciding someone’s entire life story, or is this just for me?"
Emily blinked once.
Then answered immediately. "I don’t decide people’s life stories."
Andy nodded.
"That’s not an answer."
Emily didn’t hesitate. "It is. You asked a question about perception."
Andy stared at her. Then huffed a short laugh.
"God. Okay. This is going to be exhausting."
Emily’s mouth twitched. Barely. Not quite a smile. Andy noticed anyway. Of course she did.
Silence settled briefly after that. Not uncomfortable. Just recalibrating.
Emily studied Andy for a moment. Then spoke. "First question."
Andy raised an eyebrow. "Already?" She leaned back slightly, but her attention stayed on Emily. "Go on."
Emily didn’t hesitate this time.
"What exactly do you do in operations?"
Andy blinked. That was… not what she expected.
Not the phrasing.
Not the timing.
Not the precision.
"That is your question?"
"Yes."
Andy frowned slightly.
"You already asked that."
"I asked what you do."
"And I told you."
Emily tilted her head.
"You gave a description. Not a function."
Andy stared at her. "...you are unbelievable."
Emily didn’t react. "I am listening."
That landed differently.
Andy exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Fine."
She tapped her fingers once against the table.
"My boss gives me things that don’t make sense."
Emily’s gaze sharpened slightly. Andy continued.
"I break them down into something that can actually be done."
That was the simplest way to put it. Not the most accurate. But close enough. Emily was watching her in that way she had. Focused. Still. Like she was holding onto every word and weighing it against something Andy couldn’t see.
That again.
Andy kept going.
"Steps. Timelines. Assignments. Resources."
A pause.
"It’s mostly about translating intent into something operational."
She took a sip of water, slower than necessary. Emily didn’t interrupt.
"Moving people and resources between places that weren’t designed to communicate."
Emily’s gaze sharpened slightly. Andy added, almost casually:
"And making sure nothing collapses when something inevitably goes wrong."
Emily nodded once.
"As in coordination."
Andy paused. Then narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes."
Emily followed immediately.
"Across multiple cities?"
Andy blinked.
"...sometimes."
Emily’s expression didn’t change.
"Which cities."
Andy stared at her. That was too many steps ahead. Far too many.
"Emily," she said, cutting in gently but firmly, "that’s not how this works."
Emily looked up.
"What."
"You get one question."
A beat.
Emily didn’t move.
Andy exhaled through her nose.
"We agreed. One question at a time."
Emily tilted her head slightly. "That was one question."
"No," Andy replied, calmer now but more precise, "that was a question and two follow-ups you didn’t get to ask."
Emily frowned. For a second, she looked almost genuinely confused.
Then she leaned back. "Fine."
Andy watched her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly.
"Now."
Emily looked at her. Andy’s tone shifted.
"My turn."
Emily gestured once.
"Go ahead."
Andy didn’t hesitate this time.
"Second question."
Her gaze stayed on Emily, more focused now.
"When you’re not doing your job," she said carefully, "what are you?"
Emily blinked once. No immediate reaction. Andy added, slower, more precise now, as if correcting herself before Emily could dismiss it too easily.
"Not what you do. Not what you’re responsible for." A beat. "Just… you."
Silence settled.
Andy expected hesitation.
Or irony.
Or deflection.
Instead, Emily simply looked at her. Andy couldn’t tell if the problem was that Emily didn’t understand the question… Or that she did, and it still didn’t apply to her.
Then Emily answered.
"I am not… not doing my job."
Simple.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Andy didn’t respond immediately. Because she heard it before she fully processed it. Emily’s heartbeat.
It didn’t spike.
It tightened.
Just slightly.
Like something had been pressed against it.
And then, carefully, it settled again. Back under control. Emily lifted her glass as if nothing had changed.
Andy watched her.
Not the words.
Not the posture.
The recovery. That was where it was. The gap between the question and the answer. Something had been touched. And Emily was very good at putting things back exactly where they belonged.
Too good.
Andy leaned back slightly, eyes still on her.
Quietly, she said:
"That’s not an answer."
Emily’s gaze stayed steady.
"It is."
A pause. Andy nodded once. But she didn’t let it go. Not anymore.
"Emily."
"What?"
"What do you do when you're not working?"
Emily sighed softly. Not annoyed. Tired.
The distinction felt important.
"I read."
Andy blinked. That wasn't what she had expected.
"You read."
"Yes."
"What else?"
Emily frowned slightly. The question seemed to genuinely require thought.
"I exercise."
Andy stared. Emily stared back. For a moment neither of them spoke.
"That's it?"
Another pause. Longer this time. Andy's attention caught the faint shift in Emily's heartbeat again.
Not panic.
Not embarrassment.
Something quieter.
Something heavier.
Emily looked down briefly at her glass. Then away.
"I travel."
The answer arrived a second too late. Like it had been selected. Not remembered.
Andy felt something tighten in her chest. Because none of those sounded like things Emily loved. They sounded like things she did.
Like items on a checklist.
Like ways to occupy time between responsibilities.
For the first time all evening, Andy found herself wondering whether Emily actually knew the difference. Across the table, Emily's expression remained perfectly composed. Only her heartbeat betrayed her.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
Andy suddenly understood that this wasn't a conversation Emily disliked. It was a conversation she didn't know how to have. Maybe that's why she was bad at small talk.
Emily was quiet for a moment. Not the distant kind of quiet. The focused kind. Like she was rearranging pieces on a board only she could see.
Then she set her glass down.
"My turn."
Andy sighed dramatically.
"God help me."
Emily ignored that.
"How long have you worked for your current boss?"
The question caught Andy slightly off guard.
Not because it was difficult. Because it arrived too quickly. Like Emily had already been thinking about it.
"Several years."
Emily nodded once.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, she asked:
"Why?"
Andy blinked.
"...Why what?"
"Why stay?"
The question settled between them. Andy looked down at her wine. Thought about it. Then laughed softly.
"I should probably have a better answer than that."
Emily didn't say anything.
Just waited.
God.
She was good at that.
Making silence feel like a follow-up question.
Andy twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. The honest answer was complicated.
Her boss was demanding.
Terrifying when she wanted to be.
Impossible to argue with.
Possibly incapable of experiencing normal amounts of stress.
And yet.
"I like my job."
Emily's expression didn't change. Andy continued.
"Most of the time."
"Most."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Emily's mouth.
Victory.
Tiny.
But real.
Andy decided to enjoy it.
"For all her faults, my boss is very good at what she does."
"How?"
Andy narrowed her eyes immediately. "That sounds suspiciously like a follow-up."
Emily didn't even look embarrassed.
"It is."
"You're terrible at this game."
Emily considered that. "Probably."
Andy laughed.
God.
At least she admitted it.
"Fine."
She took another sip of wine.
"She's good because she always knows where she's going."
Emily nodded once.
"Even when nobody else does?"
There it was again. Another follow-up. Technically illegal. Andy should have called her out on it. Instead, she found herself answering anyway.
"Especially then."
Emily's attention sharpened slightly.
Andy noticed. Of course she did.
"See?" she said. "That."
"What?"
"That look."
Emily frowned.
"What look?"
"The one where you immediately become interested."
"I was already interested."
"Liar."
Emily ignored that. Andy wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't just proven her point.
"People trust her," she continued. "Even when they probably shouldn't."
Emily didn't respond immediately. The silence lasted just a little too long. Not enough to be strange.
Enough to be noticeable.
Then Emily lowered her gaze briefly to her glass.
When she looked back up, her expression was unchanged.
Andy's heartbeat picked up slightly. Because there it was again. That feeling.
Like she had accidentally brushed against something she wasn't supposed to.
Not enough to understand it.
Just enough to know it was there.
Emily lifted her glass.
"My turn is over."
The transition was so smooth Andy almost missed it.
Almost.
But not quite.
Something about her boss mattered. Andy was becoming increasingly certain of that. She just had absolutely no idea why.
Andy looked at her for a moment. Still holding her wine glass. Still trying to understand her.
Emily had already shifted slightly in her chair.
Ready for the next question.
Ready to defend herself.
The realization was strangely endearing. Andy smiled.
"Oh."
Emily narrowed her eyes immediately. "What?"
"You're preparing."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm sitting."
"Defensively."
Emily looked genuinely offended by that. Andy enjoyed it immensely for approximately three seconds. Then she set her glass down.
"Third and last question."
The amusement faded slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Emily noticed. Of course she did. Andy leaned forward. This time, she didn't look away.
"What are you afraid of?"
Silence.
Emily didn't move.
For the first time all evening, she looked completely unprepared.
Andy's heartbeat sped up slightly. Because that had landed.
Hard.
Across the table, Emily's expression remained perfectly controlled. Only her eyes gave anything away.
A brief flicker.
Gone almost immediately.
Andy waited.
No jokes.
No rescue.
No easier version of the question.
Eventually, Emily exhaled softly.
"I don't know."
The answer arrived too quickly. Andy almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was obviously untrue. Emily noticed her expression.
"What?"
"You know."
"No."
"Emily."
Another pause. Andy's voice softened slightly.
"Everybody is afraid of something."
Emily's gaze drifted briefly toward the window. Toward the lights of the city beyond the glass. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.
Not vulnerable.
Just tired.
"Making a mistake."
Andy blinked. The answer surprised her. Not because of what it was. Because of how honest it sounded.
Emily looked down at her glass. Turning it slightly between her fingers.
"As in a work mistake?" Andy asked.
Emily didn't answer immediately. Something shifted behind her eyes.
Small.
Distant.
Then:
"No."
And for some reason, that single word felt more revealing than anything else Emily had said all evening. Andy suddenly had the distinct impression she was looking at the edge of something much larger. Something Emily spent a great deal of energy keeping buried.
She wasn't sure whether to push. For once in her life, Andy chose not to.
"Fair," she said quietly.
Across the table, Emily looked strangely relieved. Which, more than anything else, convinced Andy she had asked the right question.
Emily didn’t move immediately. She was waiting. Andy noticed it.
"Last question," Emily said.
Andy exhaled slowly. "Finally."
Emily ignored the sarcasm.
"What’s the thing you dislike most about your job?"
Andy blinked. Once. Then again.
That was not what she had expected. Not even close. She had been ready for something else.
Something structured.
Something about her boss.
Processes.
Control systems.
Instead, Emily just looked at her like the question made perfect sense. Andy let out a short laugh.
"...That’s your final question?"
Emily nodded once. Andy hesitated.
"Not something about my boss?"
"Why would it be?"
The answer came too quickly. Andy frowned slightly.
Because most people were curious about that.
Emily, especially, had seemed like she would be.
Andy leaned back then shrugged.
"Fine."
She turned her glass slightly between her fingers.
"There’s this person."
Emily’s gaze didn’t change.
"At work," Andy added.
Still nothing. Andy continued. "Not officially part of anything. Just… someone who shows up where she shouldn’t."
Emily tilted her head slightly.
"She interferes with things she doesn’t understand, then disappears."
A small pause.
"It’s hard to explain. She’s just… consistently there when she shouldn’t be. I’m kind of supposed to stop her from doing that."
Emily finally spoke.
"And why are you not stopping her?"
Andy blinked.
"She’s hard to find."
Emily nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense, then asked casually:
"And she doesn’t have a name?"
Andy paused. Then shook her head.
"If she does, I don’t know it."
Emily didn’t respond immediately. Just stared at her for a second longer than necessary. Then she looked down at her glass. When she spoke again, her voice was even. Careful.
"Sounds like she’s good at her job."
Andy blinked.
That wasn’t what she had expected.
"...What?"
Emily lifted her gaze.
Still calm.
"To be consistently present without being identifiable," she said, like she was evaluating a fact rather than a person, "that requires efficiency."
Andy frowned slightly. "I wouldn’t call it efficiency."
Emily tilted her head. "What would you call it?"
Andy opened her mouth.
Closed it.
"...annoying."
That earned a faint exhale from Emily.
Not quite a laugh.
Not quite nothing either.
Then she nodded once.
"Fair."
Silence settled again.
But something about it had changed.
Andy could feel it.
She just didn’t know why.
Emily, across from her, simply picked up her glass and looked suddenly less interested in the conversation than she had been a moment ago.
Which, for reasons Andy couldn’t explain, felt wrong.