spin me around and around and around...

While it wasn't illegal for her to have a smoke break at work, she had told so many people that she had quit. Liora told all that would listen that she had finally kicked the habit and had found new ways to deal with her stress. What a load of crap. She may have actually went without a cigarette within the first week she told everyone she quit but halfway through that second week, she had cracked. She didn't want anyone to think she went back on her word so she now sneaks a smoke when she could find the time.

Friday morning, a booked schedule; a lunch meeting had run over into a time slot dedicated to another, the street he'd needed access to was under construction — needless to say, his driver hadn't been surprised when he'd slipped out of the back and walked the three blocks to make his meeting. In a rush, with his dark eyes on his watch and his mind distracted, he too is startled by the woman when she suddenly appears around a corner. "This is Manhattan, miss." Michael snarks albeit a little breathlessly. "Everyone does."

Katya was lucky to have scored a seat at the bar tonight, but a regular wasn't even half of it. Most of the higher members of staff found themselves here night in and night out, and it'd paid off for her in the grand scheme of things. Bemelmans was one of her favorite haunts, especially as the live pianist tattled away in the corner. It was atmospheric, to say the least, and something she found she enjoyed. There was a half chance she'd buy a bottle after this drink and head off to the rooftop, like she did when she had some free time.

The people around her were ever changing, seats occupied for ten minutes, sometimes an hour — she'd stopped looking at the people who occupied the space to her left and right. And yet, when she heard the scrapping of the chair legs against the floor, and something told her to look up.

Her phone was far more interesting, she told herself.

A meeting gone awry; fifteen new emails on top of the twenty that Michael had already read; the moment he'd stepped out of the cold, wet rain, he'd peeled his coat from his shoulders and turned his phone on silent, taking a seat at the bar without realizing who occupied the seat closest. Her shrill, irritating voice makes the hairs on his neck stand like a territorial cat; he nearly hisses, nearly. "I don't happen to enjoy your presence either, Ms Skardova but alas, a free country." Or so they said. "Bad night?"