PLANTED LIKE A TREE.

When she noticed the director’s smile, she couldn’t help but smile herself. “Not this time, Director. But I have an inkling that even if it were, somehow you would find out.” Antheia stepped through the open door. “Thank you. Today’s destination is the closest place to eat. The Secretary General is expecting a report on his desk before he leaves today. So it’s been a bit hectic.”   

“I can absolutely sympathize.”  On the deadline, and on the necessary early lunchtime.

“Well,” Steve grins as he reaches to take a fry out of the french fry mountain which Sharon is building on her desk. “I guess, I should say I got here at six,” He explains.  That doesn’t really count for his morning work out or fighting with the coffee maker at home — as he does, every morning. 

There are more ketchup packets in the bag,  enough for Sharon to keep in her desk in case there’s ever a time they don’t have enough on their lunch breaks together. 

It’s a surprise either of them even have the time to have a lunch break. Most afternoons, they’re used to getting something out of the vending machine in between meetings. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks through cheeks full of food,  his hand up in front of his mouth. 

It’s --- WEIRDLY REASSURING, that the literal pinnacle of human perfection still TALKS WITH HIS MOUTH FULL.

“Thank you, Director. You know how it is, they call and you have to drop everything and come running.” The diplomat nodded. “But of course. Lead the way.”

“I’m afraid I know all about that,” and is that the smallest, conspiratorial SMILE she’s letting slip through ?