"C'mon, girl, how many times I gotta tell you? We're destined to be together."
Selphie eyed the cowboy with a knowing glance. "Sure we are, Irvine."
Irvine sighed and swung his feet up onto the table top, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. "Selphie, Selphie, Selphie. You know you're breaking my heart on a regular basis, dont'cha?"
Selphie leant forward and propped her head on her hand. She'd heard his spiel many times before. Hell, she was sure he tried it the same time every day, and each time she fed him her half of the act.
She looked around the bustling cafeteria, counting the seconds before his next well-rehearsed instalment.
Five.
Maybe today he'd cut the script.
Four.
And give her a glimpse of the real Irvine.
Three.
Not the sharp-shooter. Not the ladies' man.
Two.
Not the cowboy.
One.
Irvine.
"You're missing out, girl. But if there's nothing I can do to change your mind…"
Not today, Selphie realised, watching as he spun his hat on his finger; the final action of this daily ritual. But there was always tomorrow.
