Oliver Burton

It was impossible not to observe the sheer determination for change in the woman across from him. Something he could, at times, recognize within himself. Perhaps this was why Oliver could hardly fight that inexplicable urge that he might be able to help her in some way. Yet the problem was, he could not determine what it was that she may have needed at all. It was at that moment the businessman leaned forward and suggested her a way to quit if she hadn't decided on one already. That almost playful but serious offer that she could tell her co-workers that she was quitting to run away with Sacrosanct's most eligible bachelor, as that magazine so deemed him to be. Not that he could never be quite so certain what made an eligible bachelor. Was it his face? His money? His status? Or was it all three?

One thing that he knew for certain was he would not soon forget the full, emotive laughter that swiftly left the woman's lips, the sound of it had caused his form to still. Nutmeg eyes became almost imploring as they trace her sweet face before she began shaking her head. He could not ignore the near-blinding smile that lit up her face nor the fact that he found he liked the shape of her lips. Even more so when she smiled. She claimed that his assistants must like him. "I cannot decide, truthfully. Do you know what happens to someone who gets that title? They had to know this, at least in some regard." A brow rose in question before leaning back and drawing his cognac to his lips.

The conversation swiftly returned to the true matter at hand, the how she intended to quit. The woman seemed almost dismissive of the idea, that her co-workers would hardly care if she up and ran away with a wealthy business mogul. Just as much as they would care if she simply quit. That correction then followed that her co-workers were not her friends and that it would not be nearly a big deal. Those words were accentuated with a dismissive shrug of her slender shoulders. He could not truly tell if she meant those words fully and yet he did not pry further. How to simply end his job was not nearly so simple a thing for him and yet how clear it was not this way for everything. But for him, he chose a life dedicated to his causes.

The Englishman fell silent even though his gaze remains studious upon the woman's youthful features. It was that moment that seemed to incite her, promptly reminding him that he was supposed to be drinking. He could not recall the last time anyone had ever been so bossy with him, besides his driver, Edgar's missus when he neglected to feed himself as he should.

A flash of surprise was entirely short-lived before it was wiped clean. "Do not worry about me, Chizue. I will not waste a drop or hold you back." He assured, speaking over the glass as if he took another mouthful of smooth cognac, his drink of choice, to make that very point. After a moment of consideration, he spoke once more. "I do not remember you being so bossy the last time we met." The Englishman couldn't seem to help himself, his tone entirely observational as a pleasant grin he rarely allowed to linger formed upon his lips. After all, being bossy was typically his role. It was good to see that she was hardly so... timid and frightened as she was before. Yet she hardly seemed like the same person at all. It was anyone's guess as to why.

Finally, it was with one last mouthful, he placed the now empty glass on the table before crossing his muscular arms across his chest in an all too casual way as if he were not rushed. Which was quite the death when it was impossible to forget the pangs of hunger gnawing at his gut and surely by now the food was close or if not ready.

Unless she was stalling.

"Are you ready?" He questioned softly, wanting nothing more than to enjoy that meal in the fresh air. She was right in suggesting it. It was a long day cooped up inside and surely after her grand escape from life as she currently knew it, he was sure she felt the same.