Oliver Burton

Chizue's feminine voice cascaded from her lips to weave through the backdrop of sound from the restaurant. To him, her soprano feminine sounded like a pleasant song he liked. Accompanied by an inviting smile, which only served to draw him in. How could it not? Especially as he noted how the flattering restaurant lighting basked her feminine features in its welcoming warmth. What was a little imposition between old friends? She claimed with ease. It only added to the temporary shock that flashed within his nutmeg eyes as his dark brows rose. The term friend was hardly something Oliver heard much of in that city. Yet, he supposed with how intimately they had become acquainted, when Chizue had to dig out the bullet from his naked flesh within the middle of her living room, surely, that made them more than mere acquaintances. "Point received. But from experience, I find it is still better to show up with an invitation." He added politely. Perhaps the rigidity of the corporate world had long since stained his views, to show up unannounced was a clear show of power or desperation. At least in the business world.

That steadfast, heavy gaze landed upon the petite woman before him as the topic of moving shifted something in the air between them. His trained features didn't betray much of what was on his mind besides the slight crinkle of a frown that nestled its way upon his face. It was a common expression for the businessman if the slight lines upon his face were any indicator of the stress of his daily life at all. Why did her moving seem to bother him so much? Even still, after all that time. Anything else he might have thought was eased away with those offered assurances that it was not the city she intended to leave and just the place she was staying in. "Ah. As I am pleased to hear that. Does this mean, as you old friend, I get a tour of the new place?" He questioned smoothly, curious of the woman's reply.

That moment soon faded, fingers laced before him. It was impossible to know what did it but something within Chizue broke like a veritable verbal damn. Like she simply could no longer hold it all in. He quietly listened to every last grievance that surfaced within Chizue's mind. The mention of the coven leader had threatened the return of that frown back to his stern features that instead, gave way to an expression taken aback.

It appeared the woman had been harbouring a wealth of issues that gnawed away at her. It was no wonder she wished for such drastic change. He watched as she appeared more animated than she had ever been the last time they met as she aired her frustrations. Only for that final cherry on top. That seemingly random desire to change her hair. His jaw dropped slightly, lips parted as he searched for a proper response. He had never been a man to struggle with a reply and yet the Englishman didn't even know where to start. For a moment his expression was almost a comical representation of a baffled by the fairer sex male. His lips finally pressed together in consideration as he searched to form his reply.

"As for your leader and friend. A leader is not supposed to abandon in a time of need, they are supposed to protect their people. It's a shame. If she has done neither, maybe new friendships are a very good place to start. You do not deserve to be abandoned when you need support. As for your hair.... I am not sure I am the one to ask..." His brows creased once more in consideration, that was far more difficult to comment on. Women's hairstyles... were not his forte. His own hair was often kept in a manageable and well-kept style. Not too short and not too long. But women did so much more to their hair and those vastly different styles. Yet the thought of her cutting all of those pretty, soft dark locks. Or dying it some bright and unnatural shade that hardly seemed like the woman. He could hardly imagine her sporting such a harsh haircut, not when she was the perfect image of soft, to him. "Your hair is beautiful the way it is to me, Chizue. But I am afraid you know more than me on this subject." Oliver interjected thoughtfully, his gaze easily meeting Chizue's sweet chocolate gaze.

How often times people sought to control the smaller aspects of their life in order to feel a semblance of control in the much larger and far more daunting aspects that they could not. Hair, at the very least, could grow back and be redyed. A home could be found almost anywhere. Still, from all she had said, it only appeared to reveal a figurative tip of the iceberg of the woman's problems. Oliver shifted in his seat to better face her, unclasping his fingers and some instinctual part of him wished to reach for her hand. His usually stern, hardened gaze softened as the deep tones of his accented voice formed that personal inquiry with genuine concern.

"Chizue, are you truly alright?" He liked the feel of her name on his tongue. He knew she had a job to do and yet despite his insistent hunger that gnawed away at him, this seemed far more important. How long had it been since someone asked her that? He could not help but wonder.