"and this..." Cecile drawled, proud as punch (and almost as red), "is Noah."

Allie started at the name, pulled from the oblivion on which she had been previously concentrating on. Anything but the here and now. Until that name.

She glanced at the man, almost frantic with hope.

Her eyes relax when she sees that it's not him; her heart slows. It's not him. It's never him. It seems absurd to her that anyone else would have his name, because that name is always and forever attached to the memory of him. She tries everyday to convince herself that everything else isn't.

Catching herself, and pasting on her winning smile, her ruby lips curl up at the corners.

"Pleasure to meet you." Allie asserts, offering her hand lightly, not daring to say the name herself.

A few more polite words and she's off again; lost in the crowd. A crowd that she knows painfully well does not include him. She's surrounded, and he's alone. She's mingling and smiling, and he's free to do as he pleases. She's caged. He's rowing.