[ she might manage to look him in the eye, yes, but she doesn't manage to hide how she winces. it's first a soft intake of breath -- hissed inward between her teeth -- and then a sort of coiling tightness through her shoulders. her wince is sourced in a lot of things, not least among them the acknowledgement that she believes in rip's assertion: they would indeed never hear the end of it.

...and another source is one she can't help but tackle aloud: ] Must we keep calling it a date? Stupid question. Of course we must. [ she eats that slivered almond piece off the tip of her finger and then traces a lazy circle in the air. indicating, however wordlessly, the event all around them. it was a date and so that is what they must call it. ]

I suspect he suspects I was meeting with someone. [ and she's got a good track record with hunches. ] But it's been easy enough to carry on the conversational fiction that I went MIA because he was simply too demanding as a boss. In that regard, he's none too difficult to throw off a scent. Good Lord, you know I think he actually thought I was probably something like an assistant or a secretary?

[ not so easy, now. everything gets considerably tougher when other people begin to realize she's prone to short-changing the truth even in the most innocent conversations. she hasn't enjoyed ray's gradual realization about her nature and her vocation. ]