“I guess you’ll never know,” she responded, her tone half teasing, whilst the other side remained clipped. “So what was so important that you couldn’t listen to what I was saying?”

“However will I survive?” Sure, maybe it’d been something that could have held his interest, but his focus was solely on the case he HAD to win. “A few important papers,” he shrugged, fingers trailing over the smoothness of the folder before shutting it. 

“I wasn’t the one eavesdropping,” she argued, rolling her eyes. “Perhaps we should. Ridley D’Aubigne.”

“And seeing as I wasn’t either, I think we have no problem,” he countered once more, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the woman. “Pleasure must be all mine, Ms. D’Aubigne. Christopher Sinclair.”

Catherine exhaled slowly, struggling to keep the smile on her face. She enjoyed wasting time, true, but not like this. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be my one o’ clock meeting, but maybe not. If you happen to hear anyone searching for a Catherine Archibald, point them in my direction.”

"That I will,” he replied, a gentle smile on his lips. “Pleasure to meet you, though, Catherine. I’m Christopher.”

“Hey, you’re the one that talked to me, buddy. Don’t act like I’m bothering you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes.

“I was merely returning the tone of the conversation,” he said, eyes settling on her Hazel’s. “Perhaps we should start over.”

          “–Well I’m not one for repeating myself,” Valencia responded, rolling her eyes for good measure. 

“My apologies, dear,” he offered, smile curving upward onto his lips. “Suppose it wasn’t that important then.”

Charlotte looked down quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks after his daring implication. Getting her to blush wasn’t easy, she usually didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her, especially not suit-wearing men who came into the dinner for their disgusting coffee. Regaining her composure quickly, she looked back at him and cocked an eyebrow. “And what else do you think it gets me?” She questioned, trying to get the upper hand and make him blush. “Yeah, to each their own. Some of us like decent tasting coffee and some of us like… that,” she said, pointing towards his cup of coffee. “You want me to guess, huh? Well, we ruled out doctor and CEO. Oh, wait, I totally forgot about this one. Are you a lawyer?” It seemed to be the next best option. Every rich men in Manhattan were either CEOs, lawyers or doctors. “My pleasure,” the brunette said with a grin. She watched as he brought the fork to his mouth and took a bite, expecting at least an expression of disgust or disdain. Surprisingly he kept a straight face and even smiled through it, even though there was no way he was enjoying it. After the second bite, she titled her head slightly and watched him curiously. “Good, right?”

He’d always had a way with women, but his intentions were different when it came to the waitress to his side. She wasn’t his type, in fact, the very opposite of what he usually went for. She worked at a diner for starters and she herself had no intentions of throwing herself his way. “A few fans I suppose,” he said simply, not wanting to over think the attention she probably drew in daily, but for good reason. She was beautiful, seemed to hold her own and showed no interest in making a man’s dreams come true for a single night. “Lucky for you that people like me exist, yeah? Or else this,” he pointed toward the coffee, “wouldn’t be much of a business.” It was no surprise when she guessed his occupation after a few failed guesses. “I am,” he nodded, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about more than he already had to. Christopher turned his focus back to the pie in front of him, the taste making him wish he’d never asked, but his face saying differently. “You should cut yourself a piece,” he offered, shooting her a friendly smile. 

“Well, that’s a good thing because I was talking on the phone and that would be eavesdropping.”

“As if your conversation would have been anything I wanted to hear,” he countered, a smile forming on his lips gently in return. 

“Quite the attentive conversationalist, I see. Thank you for your unyielding consideration and contemplation as I conversed with myself for the past minute or two.” Lips pursed, signaling the blatant displeasure displayed at his admission.

When he had something to do, Christopher was terribly attentive to those around him, especially those he knew nothing of. The male paused for yet another moment, brows furrowed as he listened to the young woman ramble. “My apologies,” he said, eyes finally settling on hers. “I can assure you that my attention is fully on whatever you have to say.”

She scoffed lightly, averting her gaze after he told her she pulled the uniform off. He had this calmness about him that was unsettling and she wasn’t really sure how to deal with him. “Men usually like it. It’s short and shows a lot of cleavage. The owner says it’ll get us bigger tips,” she explained, trying to make him a little uncomfortable. “Well, I wouldn’t say the coffee here is a good as Starbucks’, despite what you might think.” She was pretty sure whatever the owner served was store bought and definitely not of the highest quality. She looked at him curiously, trying to figure out what it was he did. “What is it you do, though? And don’t tell me you’re a truck driver, I was just kidding about that,” she told him with a smile. She was pleased when he asked her to get the cake, turning away from him and walking to the counter to retrieve a piece of pie before he changed his mind. Charlotte walked back to the table and put the piece of pie in front of him, hanging him a fork at the same time. “Try it.”

Sure, he’d noticed the way the shirt practically clung to her breasts, but unlike most men that probably entered the diner, it wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed about her. A gentle smile curled onto his lips as he shook his head, a quiet sound of laughter leaving his throat. “I’m sure it’s not the only thing it gets you.” It was hard putting Christopher in an uncomfortable situation, mostly because he had no shame; literally. “To each their own, I suppose.” Maybe it wasn’t Starbucks, but that’s exactly what he liked about it. “It’s only fun if you’re able to guess,” he shrugged. He refused to tell her firsthand what his career was, mostly because he didn’t need her digging around any further than that. He was there to get coffee and a slice of pie; one that he’d more than likely have to fake enjoy. He watched as she moved, his eyes trailing up and down her slender frame before his attention was taken by the pie in front of him. He took the fork with ease, his hand brushing against hers gently. “Thank you,” he breathed, turning to place the napkin in his lap before cutting himself a small bite of pie. He lifted it to his lips in one swift movement, the first taste not being so bad, though the aftertaste most certainly was. Refusing to admit defeat by something as small as a piece of pie, the male smiled and went for another bite without a word.

Char looked down at the well-dressed man, looking him over. He definitely had the looking nice thing down, that was for sure. He looked a little bit older than she was, but just as attractive. “I would agree, we just don’t all have that luxury. As you can see by my polyester waitress uniform,” she said with a smirk. She made it work, but it remained an itchy piece of fabric that showed just a little too much cleavage. “Oh, you won’t drink Starbucks, but you’ll have the coffee here? Interesting,” she pointed out with a nod. Important papers wasn’t exactly the answer she had been asking for either, but she decided to let it go. She didn’t care that much, to be honest, she just wanted a nice tip. “Not really, but I’ll take it. Let me guess, though, you’re a doctor? Or, wait, a CEO? Manhattan is crawling with suit-wearing CEOs,” she attempted, looking down at the papers and then back at him. “It is. Our pie apple pie is famous,” she said with a grin. Famous for being absolutely disgusting.

No matter the occasion, Christopher was always dressed in the finest of clothes he had. It was something his father had taught him; dress as if you’re in constant business. After years of wearing suits, he’d gotten to the point that they just didn’t bother him anymore. “You seem to make it work,” he commented, a gentle grin on his lips as he looked at her. His compliments were almost always smooth and well-worded, something that a lawyer had to excel at when it came to defending someone. If couldn’t string together a solid argument, then no matter how strong your defense was, a loss would be inevitable. “Why pay for a logo when I can something just as good somewhere else?” Starbucks had always been overrated in his mind and after a year of his secretary making runs to the nearest shop to his firm, he’d called it quits, even if the coffee she made at the office was even worse. “While I appreciate your guess’, I’m afraid I’m none of the above.” She was definitely judging him and for what reason? His suit? Fair enough, he supposed. “Then what kind of truck driver would I be if I passed up on that?” The odds of a diner pie slice being decent were slim to none, but what did he have to lose? 

Charlotte scoffed, amused that someone that was most likely from the Upper East Side or another rich neighborhood in Manhattan was telling her not to judge people on appearance. “I’m so sorry, sir. Are you a truck drive who decided to dress up for a night?” She asked with an amused smile, titling her head to the side slightly. “You’re my first, I have to admit. People don’t just come in here to read, that’s what Starbucks is for,” she told him. The brunette furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head at his vague response. “Yeah, I can see that much,” she said, taking a step back. “Well, just wave me over if you need something else. The pie’s pretty good.”

While he had more money than he knew what to do with, he normally wasn’t one to judge. Sure, the normal thoughts ran through his head every single time he stepped into the less fortunate part of a city, but it was nothing he thought too much about. “I believe we all deserve to look nice every now and then,” he countered once more, not taking offense to any of her remarks. She was quick to her wit, which in Chris’ book, was something he needed more of. “Starbucks is nothing more than overpriced coffee. If I wanted a terrible brew, I could get it for free at my office.” When it came to his work, he didn’t speak much of it. To him, further discussing the case with someone other than his partners would merely cause confusion he just couldn’t afford. “If I said important papers, would it make my answer any better?” Christopher watched as the woman stepped backward, brows rising slightly as he took another drink of his coffee. “Is that something you have to say?” 

Charlotte looked at the papers on the table, trying to figure out what it was that he was doing. It looked fascinating, that was for sure. “Have you really? That suit tells me otherwise,” she said, a small grin forming on her face. “I read the whole menu to the people who just sit there staring at random papers for 30 minutes. You looked like you needed a little nudge,” she said, holding on to the coffee pot with one hand and crossing her free arm around her stomach. “I guess I get to ask a question now. What are you reading there?”

Of course he was overdressed for such a place, but he truly had witnessed worse first had through meet-ups with his clients. “Perhaps you shouldn’t judge someone based upon their appearance,” he countered, fingers moving to curl around the handle of the mug. With any luck, the coffee would be the best he’d had in days, but then again, anything was better than that brewed at his own office. “And how often does that happen?” Anyone who had the patience to read an entire menu to someone who wasn’t even listening deserved something more than two dollar tip. “Papers,” he replied and lifted the coffee up to his lips, the liquid warming his throat in a satisfying manner. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, Char glared at the man and titled her head to the side. This had to be a prank, it just had to be. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered when he finally looked up at her. “Black coffee. Of course. I’ll be right back,” she said finally, forcing a smile and walking away and getting his order. Making her way back to his booth, she poured the coffee into the cup in front of him and glanced up to look at his suit. “Are you lost or something? You know you’re in Brooklyn, right? In what is probably the crappiest dinner in New York city.”

While troubling the young female hadn’t been in his original plans, he couldn’t help but enjoy the show of impatience she could hardly hold back. A gentle smile cracked upon his features as he heard her walking away, though the case still held most of his interest. How was he supposed to get out a man that was clearly guilty of the crime he swore he didn’t commit? Frustrated by his own lack of helpful thoughts, Chris took a moments pause to look down at his steaming coffee and up at the beautiful woman who’d served it to him. “I would like to think I’ve been in worse,” he shrugged, eyes shifting from the rising steam, back to the annoyed figured to his side. “Tell me, do you normally read off the entire menu to everyone you serve?” 

“Are you serious?” Char threw her hands up in exasperation, looking at the fanciest man she had ever seen in the crappy dinner she worked at. “I just basically read the entire menu for you and you missed all of it? Honestly what are you doing here?”

Christopher’s eyes scanned over the last few sentences before he lifted his head, gaze finally settling on the impatient waitress for whom he’d considered decently friendly. “Black coffee,” he rattled off. While he seemed like a complicated man, he was simply everything but and besides, how was he supposed to eat when all he could do was worry about a case that was currently digging into his nerves?