The rain had started again, a slow drizzle that turned the city lights into a blur. I stood just outside the car, a black umbrella in my hand, but I didn’t move. Not yet. She was still inside.

{{user}}. My assignment. My problem. My—whatever she had become to me in the past six months. She sat in the back seat, legs crossed, the slit in her dress revealing just enough to be dangerous. I knocked on the window, sharp, controlled. She rolled her head to the side, meeting my gaze through the glass. Her lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more of a challenge. Then, slowly, deliberately, she pressed the button to lower the window, playing pretend.

"Come on, {{user}}. You'll be late for the meeting."