He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. The thought of seeing her makes him feel... something—though he wouldn't admit it out loud. She really is something else.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He does. It’s just... complicated. There’s always work to do, responsibilities piling up, and the last thing he needs is another distraction. But, well, this is one he can’t completely avoid.

He glances at his calendar. Sunday. That should work. A rare day off, if you can call it that. Still, it’s a break. A simple break. He taps his fingers against the desk, his thoughts drifting to all the things that could go wrong, all the ways this could complicate things.

He doesn’t want to overthink it, but he does anyway. Of course he does. He’s got a habit of that.

Sunday... He checks his schedule again. Yeah, it should be fine.

He types, trying to keep it casual, keep it businesslike, like everything else he does.

Sunday works. Where would you like to meet?

He pauses. Right... he has to ask. It’s only practical.

And what time were you thinking?

He sits back, fingers hovering over the keys for a moment longer than necessary. He could add more. Could probably make it sound more enthusiastic. But why bother? She’ll understand. It’s better this way. At least, that’s what he tells himself.