His tension was a radiant thing, as brightly shining and obvious to her as if he’d suddenly grown a glittering, gold unicorn horn on his forehead, but she gave no outward reaction to it other than the small smile she held on her lips out of practice. Smiles tended to make people comfortable after all, just as it was tears and panic she’d found that brought men to action for the most part. She’d practiced and polished her sob story until it shone, but she saw no reason to play that particular card just yet. This man was peculiar and had a routine that apparently required strict adherence, but she saw nothing just yet to motivate her beyond idle, near-playful prodding.

“Well,” she said, appearing to think for a moment before her smile grew large and wide. “I promise I’m no chatter box. In fact, I’m quite certain you’ll forget I’m in the room,” she said as she brushed past him to head toward a chair by the window mostly for show, as she stopped and turned back to look at him after going only a few feet. “I won’t even look at you while you organize, since I’ll be reading. How’s that for unobtrusive?”