It had been a really long day and Mara wanted nothing more than to kick off her heels and curl up with a hot meal and a good book. Actually, any food was sounding better and better at this point, since in the hectic madness of the afternoon, she'd missed lunch and had long since burned off the PowerBar she kept in her handbag. But she wasn't sure if she should leave yet. The PC was rambling around in his office, almost like he was... lingering. Normally the first to burst when the day's work was done so he could get to his family, she wondered at the odd delay and how to handle her own exodus from the office.

Quickly packing her things and switching off the desk light, she decided she'd just let him know she was leaving. Her hand was a fraction of an inch from the polished maple when the door swung fully open and she instead collided with expensive wool and rich paisley and a surprisingly solid chest. "Oh! Commissioner, I am so-" Realizing her hand was still resting over his heart, she quickly snatched it back and put a stranglehold on the strap of her carryall before launching into an oddly frenetic monologue. "Uh, I was just... getting ready to go and I wanted to let you know so you didn't wonder where I was if you wanted me- needed me, for anything. At all. And... I'm rambling because it's been such a long day, so I'm going to just-"

"Then I can walk you out?" The break-in statement caught her off guard as much as her sudden inability to form a coherent sentence. Lord, stomach eating brain; I must be hungrier than I thought, Mara mused as she blinked a few times and nodded, gathering her coat and her wits about her more firmly as the PC secured his sanctum and gestured her out ahead of him.

She fought to keep her smile under control as they strode to the elevator bank, now smoothly conversing about their day. Waiting patiently for the car, she tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear as the topic suddenly slid to food. The Mayor's Charity Thanksgiving was in a few weeks: a posh party with catered delicacies and an impressive guest list to raise money for free dinners of more traditional fare set up at five inner city shelters the following day. The expected spike in donations would mean additional meals and more hands to serve, and after proofing and filing press releases she could now recite in her sleep, she knew the Mayor hoped to crack double digits in the number of facilities benefiting from the outreach program this year.

But all the talk of food, especially the current debate over marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes versus pie as acceptable final courses, was beginning to take a toll as Mara felt her smile begin to tighten and her mouth start to water. Where on earth was that elevator? Discomfort apparently flashed in her features, because the PC apologized for the culinary course of conversation, citing his own famished state as a mitigating factor. "Lunch just seems like it was hours ago. Well, you had the same day I did; you must be hungry too. Right?" Everything about his manner and delivery was casual, almost off-hand- except the way his eyes flicked to catch her expression before fixing back on the still unmoving floor indicator above the doors.

Mara opened her mouth to answer in the negative when her stomach jumped the gun and issued a mortifyingly loud rumble. Her eyes went wide and she felt a wash of heat as she blushed to the roots of her hair, willing herself to melt into the floor rather than have to look up into the surely shocked eyes of her temporary employer.

"Mara?" That rich baritone of his broke into her thoughts and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second before drawing a shaky breath and peering up. He was watching with a decidedly mixed expression: concern warring with a glint of amusement in those whiskey orbs. She had been trying to place his eye color for almost a week until she'd gone for a drink at Peter McManus, and nearly dropped her Jameson neat. Definitely whiskey, the good kind that went down smooth- an appropriate finishing touch on a man a girl could get drunk on just from staring too long. Which she was doing right now, and oh dear, what was that he was saying?

"Are you all right?" He repeated, seeming to realize she had missed the query the first time. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded and went back to studying the swirls in the carpet, hoping to unlock the secret to being absorbed by the fibers. She also hoped that the incident would be swiftly forgotten as the elevator finally arrived, chrome doors sliding open with a muted whoosh to admit them. But they stood in silence, Frank staring into the middle distance, Mara wondering why he hadn't pressed the button to deliver them to the lobby.

When he spoke (after pursing his mouth for a moment and giving a small nod, as she'd seen him do in conference) his tone was calm but decisive, as though he was stating the conclusion to a series of deliberations. "I think you know Danelli's in Brooklyn, but if you don't, you should. Now they hold a table for me a few nights a week, and tonight's special so happens to be fettuccine with this amazing mushroom cream Alfredo- just the sort of good filling meal one craves in cold weather. I'm hungry and we've established that you are in a similar state. It will just be business as usual in the morning, but tonight, since neither of us probably wants to face an empty house right now," he turned towards her with his closing, "would you care to join me?"

Thinking about the implications of this would be far too messy and require more energy than she could muster without sustenance. The simple fact was he was asking her to dinner, and not only was she starving but she really wanted to say yes, so with a smile she no longer tried to contain, she replied with a hearty, "Yes sir. I'd love to." He smiled back as he firmly pushed the L and the car began its descent to street level.

The doors they now regarded slid open once more, but there was no immediate move to exit. She sensed he was waiting for something again, so she patiently paused at his side until he spoke.

"Mara?"

"Sir?"

"Just one other thing."

"Anything, sir."

He turned to face her, the full intensity of that intoxicating gaze hitting her straight on. "Tonight, please, call me Frank."

Oh. Slightly parted lips drew a breath before stretching into a winsome grin. "I think I can manage that." And off they went into the night.

A/N: Another chapter is on its way, but I wanted to get this up soon as I could. Back to Frank's POV next chapter.

Love it, like it, leave it, or hate it, feel free to let me know. And as always, enjoy!