Sophie was in the hotel room. She had begun on the story and didn't react to the reality when her dinner came. As the waiter went away, she heard a voice. Absorbed in her story, she didn't notice that it was Charlie.

"Hello," called he to the room. Was she even here?

"Hello?" She finished her sentence and looked up. To her surprise, Charlie was standing there. "Hi. Is Claire with you? No?" She couldn't hide her disappointment.

"No, no. She's turned in early, actually." He was not sure on how to proceed. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted dinner, but…" he gestured in the direction of the food plate. He was sorry. He'd have like her company tonight, ask her about her life. He felt awkward now.

"I just…I wanted to get started on my story." The last thing she wanted was a dinner with Charlie Wyman.

"How it's coming?" asked he, curious. He was interested in seeing how she wrote, what was her style. He was used to formal writing, but he marvelled at anyone who could write a story based on imagination. But this time she used facts.

"It's coming okay," said Sophie evadingly. Writing was her own little cave; nobody was allowed to see it except her dad. He was the one she had shown every word written by her hand. He had marvelled at them all, naturally, but she knew he really liked them. She knew the power of words. How would people react to her stories? She couldn't let people write something she wasn't pride of. She had high expectations of her writing. She wasn't sure if her creative mind would perfect itself in why she was a fact-checker. Facts were precise, emotionless and no one could argue they weren't good or that they were. Facts were simply…facts.

"Am I in it?" asked Charlie, curious about she would write about him. Would she tell how odious he had been or the friend he had become. Would she tell he was handsome? Attractive? Gorgeous?

"You may be. Why?" she asked him, uncertain where he was getting.

"Can I read just a little bit?" he really wanted to see how he was written. Her opinions of him felt very important to him suddenly. He went to look at the computer.

"Are you kidding me?" exclaimed Sophie. No one was allowed to read her writing. She surely didn't trust Charlie. He wouldn't like it. She would be insulted again for her stupidity.

"Come on, just a little bit," pleaded he.

She closed the computer with a quick move. "Absolutely not."

"How am I to be sure I'm being properly portrayed?"

"No you are. Believe me. You are." She insisted. He became very personal. He was too near, to frightening. Sophie was scared. Where was she? There was a man in her room and he took away all her walls. The danger was that she felt attracted to him. She couldn't let herself get carried away. She wanted him gone. So she could think, in peace. She had a fiancé, for goodness' sake!

"What's that supposed to mean?" said he with an arrogant voice. Did she mean she was telling his worst side in her story? She had become so distant, cautious, on her guard. She was again that woman he argued with. He didn't like it. He wanted the cordiality they had earlier. But he felt it. The attraction. It was growing. Her intelligence, her good humour, those very long and beautiful legs.

"It mean good night Charlie," again that impatient voice. He walked backwards, not giving up the fight to stay and she walked toward him, with the intention of making him leave. They were like two magnets, both showing the wrong side, splitting them apart. "Good night," repeated she.

"Okay." Small capitulation from his side. He did not want to leave this room. But he felt that this was not the moment but he still didn't admit the defeat.

"Yeah," said she to his resigned face. "Good night." He laughed. She wanted to say the opposite. He knew it. Sophie was saying no when she wanted to say yes. He saw the look on her face. He felt powerful. Sophie laughed too. "What? Okay."

"Is this…"Began he before she closed the door. " one of those situations," continued he behind the door, "where you're really saying the opposite of what you actually mean?"

"No," was her confident answer.

"Right. Good night then." Charlie felt his joy drop.

"Good night Charlie."