Quiet Terrace

Casey watched as the crowd swallowed Tobias in arms and voices, all eager to get in a word with the man who made the checks. No wonder he looks so tired, people hanging off of you every second, drowning you in their thoughts and idealistic natures.

"I'm sure just one of them is hoping they make a successful impression on him enough to be remembered the next day after one of these." Cyrus's soft baritone was calm and soothing, almost a lullaby on the wind. Yet even his voice unsettled her in a way she couldn't quite pin down.

She looked over at the man to whom Tobias had finally given an identity and smiled at the way his face creased pleasantly in all the right places. He smiled back at her, just a small hint of pleasure that creased across his tanned skin and collected into small dimple lines on either cheek. Yes, a very attractive smile, but a hunch told her they were rare. She wondered why he would show her one. An elusive glimpse into the man she might see over the short period of time they would be working together?

"So, Cyrus, what do you do for this company?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage with how nervous she was.

"Well… Shana, the question is not what I do. Rather, what do you do for this company that you have managed to make Tobias bring me out here just to meet you tonight?" Cyrus paused after that statement as if giving her the leniency to digest its insinuations.

She looked up at him, surprised. "You have an accent," she responded foolishly. She winced and restarted the statement. "He brought you… out to meet me?" She looked up as the wind blew the one escape curl across his forehead to the opposite side to rest. The hair screamed it belonged on the other side and her fingers twitched as she forced control into them.

He gave it a light blow and with a mind of its own, it found its rightful place on the other side. She couldn't help but feel disappointed for some reason. He gave her another light smile. "Yes, I have an accent, and yes… me out to meet you."

She smiled back reluctantly. "Why do I have a feeling you don't do that very often around strangers." She clamped her mouth shut and swore at herself. Her elusive mouth spoke before her brain could process the damage her immediate thoughts would have if said out loud.

"What?" He looked momentarily confused.

She groaned slightly and gave an answer to the bizarre situation she had just instilled on their surroundings. "Smile… I think you don't smile very often."

"You're very intuitive."

"No, I observe things and get things right most often than not."

"So you're always right?"

"Yes, well, most of the time anyway." A laugh escaped and she smiled.

"It has been a while since you laughed." She went to protest, and then he added, "And meant it."

"I suppose so."

"So what has caused a girl like you to lose her radiant glow?" he asked almost too casually. The way he said "a girl like you" was not endearing, though, and was more cold than anything else. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His stance was casual, but he had a leashed aggressiveness about him that made him seem deadly even when doing nothing at all.

"Life, I am afraid, has given me very few reasons to laugh and be sincere." She didn't feel like giving him more than that, though, so she stopped at what could have been elaborated into a conversation of its own.

"Hmmh, and why might that be?" he asked.

"A man."