ABSOLUT

He had looked up in time to watch her walk in like someone had poured a glass of fine wine. But that was just her. She was elegant, and cool, and intoxicating because that was who she’d crafted. Much like his calm, much like his kind patience. “Davenport, I’ll be damned,” he said as he stood to greet her. He extended one large hand. If he were the hugging type, he would have hugged her and that spoke volumes.

“I miss New York, it’s true, but don’t tempt me by talking about take-out, no good Indian cuisine for miles, and you know I live off of Tikka Masala.”

          ❝   how’s the promotion?   ❞   there’s just a touch of sarcasm in daisy’s voice ;  technically she knows it was, indeed, a promotion, but somehow relocation from the metropolis of nyc to the backwater of kentucky doesn’t seem like much of a reward  --  though she knows there are plenty of statesmen who would disagree with her.   ❝   can’t imagine take-out is as convenient, hmm?   ❞   small talk ... that’s what people do, she knows, although it strikes her as time consuming and occasionally infantile.