"Ah, is that the quarter?" A shift of mouth and brows that's a little sharp, a little dry, and then she lapses into a silence that is plainly considering. The wineglass is turned between her fingertips and stared into and sipped from, long and slow, before finally sat down, hands folded around its base.

"If I tell you, we'll be even in that. My employers can never know." She watches him, observing but mostly hesitating. She presses a thumb into the edge where cup meets table until the nail goes white.

"There's a man. I broke things off months ago, but he won't fix it or let it die."