[The moment their eyes meet lasts both an eternity and nowhere near long enough. Whatever he's been trying to convince himself of these past months, whatever narrative they've agreed to participate in between them— in an instant, it falls away, and the truth is laid bare.

They have been pretending, both of them, and it has become increasingly difficult to ignore.

She looks down, and he lets out a soft huff of breath as he averts his own gaze, suddenly finding his empty glass to be terribly interesting. He clears his throat softly at her suggestion, reaching for his bag.]

Perhaps we should. It's not terribly late yet, but we've both— plenty to do, I'm sure.

[And if they stay here, like this, he can't help but wonder if they might make another 'mistake.' Would it be one, truly?]

Shall I walk you, or do you already have arrangements with Oren?