<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span> </span>Isabella kept her face passive. She sipped at her drink as he ticked points off of his fingers. He was closer on some points than others, and then there were times that he completely missed the mark. Appropriate responses were shown at certain keywords; secretary was one, nepotism was certainly another. Mostly vague expressions of mock offense. She couldn’t stifle a brief scoff of laughter at the thought of being secretly desperate for marriage. "Close. Very close," she shook her head, sounding impressed, and drained the remnants of her drink. Setting the empty glass back onto the napkin, she pushed it towards him with an index finger; suggestive of a refill. </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span> </span>She cleared her throat, and pushed hair over her shoulder. Sitting up straighter, she shifted in her seat like someone who was preparing for an important presentation. "Okay," she lifted her own hand to mark points, just as he had. "It is a luxury car, but I own it. I don't go to Starbuck's, it doesn't seem worth it for black coffee and cream," she rolled her eyes upwards briefly in thought. "My dry cleaner does know my name, and my bartender cheated," she playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm a hospital executive," she uncurled another finger, but didn't go into any detail. Wouldn't give him the pleasure of having correctly alluded to her interim CFO position or the fact that it was in her sort-of-father's hospital. She dropped her hands, in favor of leaning on the bar again, more fun that way, something intimate about leaning closer to converse with someone. "I live in a penthouse apartment down town, and it's a total mess." This was only partially true, it was in fact impeccable. Mostly because of the small amount of time she actually resided with in it. Between working and letting men from bars take her back to their own apartments, it was basically a giant storage unit for her possessions. "I'm not at all desperate to get married," she explained, laughing lightly at the idea. Marriage; how absurd. Her familial situation growing up had rid her of that fantasy at a very young age. "Boyfriend's aren't bad, though," she amended. For a little bit, she didn't say out loud. "You did well, I'm very impressed." </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span> </span>Bella tsked, a soft noise of tongue against her teeth and for a minute she managed to look disappointed. She pushed a hand through her hair, upsetting her the straight-cut fringe of bangs above her brow, smiling all the while. "I guess I'll have to keep coming back until I find him." </span>[/align]
[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span> </span>She cleared her throat, and pushed hair over her shoulder. Sitting up straighter, she shifted in her seat like someone who was preparing for an important presentation. "Okay," she lifted her own hand to mark points, just as he had. "It is a luxury car, but I own it. I don't go to Starbuck's, it doesn't seem worth it for black coffee and cream," she rolled her eyes upwards briefly in thought. "My dry cleaner does know my name, and my bartender cheated," she playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm a hospital executive," she uncurled another finger, but didn't go into any detail. Wouldn't give him the pleasure of having correctly alluded to her interim CFO position or the fact that it was in her sort-of-father's hospital. She dropped her hands, in favor of leaning on the bar again, more fun that way, something intimate about leaning closer to converse with someone. "I live in a penthouse apartment down town, and it's a total mess." This was only partially true, it was in fact impeccable. Mostly because of the small amount of time she actually resided with in it. Between working and letting men from bars take her back to their own apartments, it was basically a giant storage unit for her possessions. "I'm not at all desperate to get married," she explained, laughing lightly at the idea. Marriage; how absurd. Her familial situation growing up had rid her of that fantasy at a very young age. "Boyfriend's aren't bad, though," she amended. For a little bit, she didn't say out loud. "You did well, I'm very impressed." </span>[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]
[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span> </span>Bella tsked, a soft noise of tongue against her teeth and for a minute she managed to look disappointed. She pushed a hand through her hair, upsetting her the straight-cut fringe of bangs above her brow, smiling all the while. "I guess I'll have to keep coming back until I find him." </span>[/align]
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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