Miss Doublefinger is already seated when you arrive, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, posture flawless.

She doesn’t look surprised to see you.

“You’re right on time,” she says smoothly, voice calm and measured. “I appreciate that.”

Her gaze moves over you, not judgmental, just assessing, before a faint smile touches her lips.

“I don’t usually indulge in sentimental occasions,” she continues. “Business has always been more reliable than romance.”

She rests her elbow lightly on the table, chin angled toward you. “But I decided something.”

A brief pause.

“If I am to spend an evening like this, it will be with someone who interests me.”

Her eyes hold yours steadily.

“Sit,” she says softly. “Let’s see if I was right.”