I'm Fine [Charlotte]

[Deleted]

LAYLA GOODACRE

Despite the fact there was a clock on the wall, a watch on her wrist and a perfectly good telling of the time in her pocket, Layla wasn't checking any of them. After all, Charlotte was never late, even to their more casual meetings - professionalism, it seemed, often couldn't be left behind, and certainly not by someone who seemed to pride themselves on it.
Layla ran her index finger around the top edge of her glass, counting, then losing track and pausing for a moment, before starting again. The sun had long since set outside, and artificial light shone on the bar's fake wooden panels. Though it was quiet, the crowds having moved onto trendier places, there was still the low sound of laughter and the clink of glasses, which was enough for Layla to sit in her own bubble of happy quiet. Whenever she moved, her body cast various shadows in different directions. Cider fizzed in her glass whenever she took a drink, and she was somewhat worried she'd be half-cut before Charlotte even arrived, though she took a deep swig the moment she realised that was stupid; she wasn't going to get drunk on one glass.
She really did wish Charlotte would hurry up.

[Deleted]

There was the freshening swish of air as Charlotte pushed open the door and entered the bar, already unwinding the soft pale green pashmina scarf from around her neck as she headed for Layla's table almost without needing to look up and make sure Layla was there. Routines could do a great deal of good for some people, and Charlotte appreciated the dependability of regular habits, herself. It certainly wasn't as exciting as more adventurous spontaneity, but it had its uses. Impulsiveness without a solid grounding was no way for most people to live healthily and happily--Charlotte had found that out, professionally and personally.

"Evening, Layla," she greeted the younger woman, with a smile. Had they been any old friends just meeting for a drink, she might have gone in for lightly kissing the air beside her cheek in the tradition of many upper-middle-class women, but as this was meant to be somewhat related to business--albeit in an informal setting--Charlotte simply sat down across from Layla and discreetly took out a small notebook and pen from her purse, laying them to one side of the table and putting on her glasses as the server approached the table. "Oh, Perrier with lime, please."

Order given, she turned back to Layla with another smile.

"You're looking well. Tell me about your work, recently--if you like."

Leaving Layla with both the gentle prompting or the option to bring up anything that was troubling her, Charlotte was willing to let the conversation flow more or less naturally, with a very little encouragement as it might be needed.