Author's Note: Wow! It's been a while. I have been writing this chapter FOREVER! Between the holidays and late nights at work, I haven't had the time to sit down and write. I'm so glad this chapter is out of the way though. I feel like the story can really start now. I will have some more free time in the upcoming weeks, so I'm going to challenge myself to post a new chapter a week until the end of February. I really need to push myself to do better and not be so lazy with my writing.

I hope everyone had a great time celebrating the holidays. I hope it was filled with food, fun, and family. Also, a Happy 2019 to everyone. I'm excited for this year creative wise, but something about it feels off. I don't know why.

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read, favorite, and review my work, as a novice writer it means the world to me. Hopefully there's not too many grammar mistakes. I stayed up until 3am to finish it.

Stay Happy, Stay Golden!

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Chapter 6: Darcy

"Darce, I'm in love."

I roll my eyes and continue looking through the financial ledgers. I like to double-check the numbers every Friday just to make sure I know exactly how the money is being spent. I also like to look over everything before I sign off on the payroll. Crunching the numbers and seeing where we can be more efficient with the money is one of my favorite parts of running Pemberley Productions.

I flip to the next packet of papers detailing the budget for our upcoming crime drama show. We moved into the television arena about three years ago, and it has been so much easier to produce television shows than movies from a financial standpoint. Filming for a series is much cheaper than feature films, and there's not as much marketing gamble. Shows that don't do well can just get budget cuts whereas movies that don't do well have already been paid for and nothing can be done to recover the millions lost.

"Mhhm, Charlie. I remember you saying the same thing about the brunette and the blonde before that."

"No, Darcy this is different. Marilyn and I had different definitions of monogamy and the brunette and I had irreconcilable compatibility issues… as you well know."

Charlie "falls in love" every few months – usually with whichever co-star he is currently working with. His propensity for getting tangled up in all-consuming, whirlwind romances is great for boosting movie ticket sales, but not so great for his health when the relationship inevitably crashes and burns. Thankfully for him, I always manage to find time in my schedule for a therapy session which usually involves hitting baseballs in the park or aggressively punching sandbags.

Our last session was particularly grueling. Charlie had just split with a tall brunette. Once the movie press conferences had wrapped, she decided that as a serious actress she must only be linked with brooding, pensive dark-haired actors. As a blonde, Charlie was just not serious enough for her. She probably read something along the lines of "Your career is about to take off, girl. Some people in your life won't be able to handle that. Don't fret. Keep doing you and let the naysayers fall away," in her horoscope and immediately labeled Charlie as an unserious naysayer.

"Charlie, you might say that this girl is different, but if you're professing your love for her this early on, this relationship will end up the same as the others."

These sessions with Charlie are extremely draining. Charlie feels every emotion very acutely. When he meets a new potential love interest, he's on top of the world, unstoppable; but when said girl breaks his heart, he can become almost suicidal. Opportunistic women seek Charlie out because he's kind and unassuming. He's a hot star right now, and paparazzi is always jumping at the bit for scandalous photos of him and his new lover. So many women have used Charlie to advance their careers and then thrown him away when they get their first bite of fame, but I am always there to make sure they don't get too far in the industry.

"Darce, you'd understand if you met her at the club the other night. She's an angel. She'd never break my heart or play with my emotions like those other girls."

So, this wasn't a co-star. This was a woman he met in that God-forsaken club. This woman probably doesn't even have any talent. I roll my eyes in disgust and reply, "Didn't I warn you that all the girls in that club are just trying to sleep their way into show business?"

This time, Charlie rolls his eyes. "Janet is different. She doesn't want to do anything Hollywood. She was surprised I even suggested she should model. God, she's so pretty. I wish you had seen her before you made your rude exit." Charlie momentarily pauses before he adds, "You know her sister heard what you said and didn't appreciate being called a whore."

Without looking up from my papers and files, I reply, "Well, I'll apologize the next time I see her. And then when she and her sister do turn out to be gold-diggers, I'll even refrain from telling you 'I told you so.'"

There is silence for a moment as Charlie decides whether to pursue the topic further or switch subjects.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted the other night at the club. I was a real asshole. The worst part is, I thought I was being funny or something. I had to convince Caroline that I had been talking about a different girl. I lied and told her that I asked you to take a co-star out on a fake date as a favor, but I was so drunk, I got confused and falsely said that your guy's date was the fake one. I also told her that your ineptitude regarding normal social conventions kept you from extolling her virtues and expressing your appreciation for the remarkable night you both shared together."

I let out a huff of air as I look up at my well-meaning friend. "So now Caroline thinks that I harbor an inexpressible affection for her? Now she is probably waiting for me to ask her on another date, and if I don't ask her, she'll just think that my awkwardness is preventing me from mustering up the courage to speak to the woman I am so desperately in love with. Thanks, Charlie. You're such a great friend."

"Oh, well, I wasn't thinking about that. I just didn't want Caroline to think that either of us are jerks. Hmm, I'll find a way to fix this. I'll set her up with somebody else."

"No, Charlie. Your idea of fixing things usually involves elaborate plans that make the situation ten times worse. I think the best thing is to just ignore it. I am extremely busy with the expansion and my new project, so I have valid reasons for avoiding Caroline in the foreseeable future."

A big smile breaks out across Charlie's face and his eyes twinkle with excitement. "New project? You didn't tell me about any new projects."

Oh, crap. I did not mean to mention that. I am trying to keep my idea for a documentary about the town as quiet as possible.

"Because it's nothing special. I'm just taking some pictures. When does shooting start for your new movie? Have they found you a co-star yet?"

Charlie shakes his head and moves to lean over my desk. "Nope, not going to hide this from me. This project must be more than just random pictures if it is going to take up your time. I'm not going to stop asking, so stop trying to change the subject and just tell me."

I let a heavy sigh and give in. Like a dog with a bone, Charlie was not going to let this one go.

As nonchalantly as I can, I tell him, "I want to do a photo documentary series highlighting town landmarks." I stand and walk to the filing cabinet near the bookshelf to store the copy of the financial ledger and payroll information for the week. "Are you hungry? I think I'm ready for lunch."

"What made you want to showcase the town?"

I turn the lock on the cabinet and put the ring of keys back in my pocket. Like I said, dog with a bone. "I was driving one day, when I saw this girl sitting in this field I had never seen before. It made me realize that despite living here my entire life, there are so many places I've never explored. I did some research and there's actually a lot of historic spots in Healdsburg that no one ever talks about or visits."

Charlie looks at me slyly before asking, "Did you talk to the girl?"

"What? What girl?"

"You mentioned a girl." He shrugs. "And I want to know if you talked to her or just watched her like a creepy stalker."

I sputter out, "I did not watch her like a creepy stalker." I only watched her long enough to take the picture.

"So, as per usual, you didn't actually interact with her."

"I just mentioned her because she happened to be in the field that I passed. I didn't stop at the field because of the girl. I didn't even really notice her. I was focused on the scenery, not her. Why would I talk to a random stranger?"

Charlie raises his eyebrows and smirks. "The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks." I stare back at him with a set jaw and steely eyes. I don't like being made fun of. Charlie puts his hands up in surrender and laughs off any remaining tension. "I just got excited because I thought the romance hating William Darcy had found a woman who lived up to his impossible standards. I didn't mean any harm. I was only teasing."

I relax my jaw and look away from Charlie. "I just don't like being called a creepy stalker."

There is silence again as Charlie thinks of his next question. I actually am starving so I ask Charlie again if he wants to grab something to eat, and when he replies in the affirmative, we both head to a French restaurant near Pemberley. The waitress who takes our orders fumbles nervously after realizing that she is serving the Charles Martin. Charlie being the charmer that he is, basks in the attention and uses it to his advantage.

"Hey, doll. I know it's not breakfast time anymore, but I'd be over the moon if you could get me a couple of strawberry beignets."

"Oh, of course, Mr. Martin. We usually save some for the staff to take home, but I'm sure they won't mind if I get you a few.

The waitress quickly returns with a full plate of beignets, croissants, and freshly baked bread. Wherever he goes, Charlie always finds a way to charm somebody into giving him free food.

"I brought back as many as I could find."

"Thanks Elyse. Elyse that's such a pretty name. I think my friend and I are ready to order. I'll have the chef's special and Darce will have the…"

"The salmon and another glass of wine."

"Coming right up Mr. Martin and Mr. Martin's friend." I don't even look up at the waitress as she flounces off.

"Doll? It's like you can't help yourself. Do you have any control over the words that come out of your mouth when you talk to a fan?"

Charlie waves his hand dismissively. "Eh, it's all muscle memory now, I kinda go on autopilot. I gotta give the fans what they want. But back to more pressing topics. This documentary, what exactly will it showcase? What's the story? It can't just be pictures of a bunch of random places."

I take another sip of wine, so I have time to formulate my response. I have been grappling with my reasons for doing this documentary and how I envision it materializing. "I think I want to show the history of the town. We're not a huge city like New York or DC, but we have a very unique culture and unique historical structures. I would like it if my documentary showed the true beauty of the town."

Charlie nods with squinted eyes trying to see my vision the way I see it.

"Our maid Betsy never shares anything about her life. I couldn't even tell you if she had kids or where she lived. Betsy has been with my family for over twenty years, and I don't even know her last name. One day, I followed her after Sunday brunch just to see what she does with her day off. I was curious. I wanted to know what she does when she is not with us. I followed her bus all the way downtown, and then I trailed behind her as she walked a mile outside of downtown into this neighborhood on the outskirts of town. She hobbled along with a limp that she covered well whenever she was with us. I watched her walk all the way to the park where five or six kids were playing outside. They started yelling grandma when she came near. Grandma! Betsy has grandkids, I didn't even know she had kids. That's when I realized that there's this whole different side to this town that I know nothing about. Pemberley Productions is all about bringing fresh, new ideas to media, but we've been stale recently. I want to be inspired, and I need a change of scenery to get the creative juices flowing again. I'm hoping there will be a new story in one of these pictures."

Charlie takes a moment to think and then like being struck by lightning, every nerve in his body lights up and he is radiating excited energy.

"Instead of inspiring a new movie, what if this project was the new movie? You can capture footage of the locations and combine that with interviews with different owners and townsfolk" Charlie looks at me with shining eyes. "Darce, you're an amazing filmmaker, and I'm not just saying that because we're best friends. You take such care with the little details. Remember back in the day, when we were in that art history class and you did that documentary about organized crime. There were so many layers and it was so… what's the word you love to use? You know the one."

I chuckle, "Nuanced."

"Right, nuanced. Your film was so nuanced. Man, you kept me entertained and you know how I feel about anything that doesn't have a shootout or laugh track." I chuckle again thinking about all of the times I've tried and failed to expand Charlie's film repertoire. He has such a short attention span, something has to blow up every ten minutes for a movie to keep his focus. "But jokes aside, Will, if you want to do something that'll leave a mark and really show the story of our town, film is your best bet. I can see it now. You'll just a pose the modernization of Healdsburg with the historic aspects. It'll be amazing."

"Juxtapose."

"What?"

"The word is JUX-tapose, not JUST a pose."

"Whatever, Darce. It's a good idea, right?"

I finish the last of my salmon and lean across the table so that I am eye level with Charlie. "Yeah, it's a great idea, but you're forgetting something extremely important." I let out a labored breath. "I can't talk to strangers."

Charlie deflates as all of his excited energy dissipates into thin air. "Oh. Right. I forgot that you're socially impaired. Shit." Charlie closes his eyes for a moment. I continue eating my salmon. I will need to get back to the office soon and meet with Mr. Marcks, the creative director for our upcoming romantic drama. We are still working to create the screenplay. The current writer is struggling to come up with an original screenplay that does not involve any cowboy boots or drawn-out battle scenes. Sophia had the idea to adapt a book into a screenplay, but most of the well-known books have already been scooped up.

"Okay, Darcy, I've got it." Charlie clasps his hands together and lays them on the table. "I'll come with you and do the introducing for you. You'll be like my background cameraman and I'll be your reporter. You just give me a rundown of the place and what questions you want to ask and then I'll get the scoop and you can take the pictures and film. Brilliant? I know!"

"Charlie, I couldn't ask you to do that. I don't know how long this will take. I don't want you to waste your Saturday."

Charlie waves his hands dismissing my concern. "Darce, you've done way more for me. I can spare one Saturday to help my best bud out. It's no problem. Just create a list of places, the questions, and I'll meet you at your place?"

I can't help but smile at Charlie's kindness. "Yeah, I have a shortlist of places already."

"Great. That's settled. Amazing. I have to meet with my publicist to go over answers for an interview I'm doing on the Tonight Show next week. They're probably going to ask about what the hell happened with the brunette, and I want to be prepared for anything they might throw my way."

"Yeah, I have to get back to the office and wrap up some things. The first place I want to stop by tomorrow is a diner. It's open 24/7 so let's get there early, my place at say 6am?"

Charlie flags down our waitress who he happily obliges with an autographed napkin and a hefty tip. "This diner better be good if I'm waking up that early. You know how I feel about my mealtimes."

"Yes, Charlie," I begin eyeing his crumb-free plates, "I am well aware of your love of food."

As promised, Charlie is leaning on his car outside of my house at 6am on Saturday morning. His shirt is rumpled and his hair is uncombed, but otherwise, he looks clean.

"Ready?" I ask as I start my car and beckon Charlie over.

"Jumping for joy." Charlie yawns making his comment sound sarcastic. "Let's order one of everything at the diner, I'm starving. Where are we going again?"

"Okay, so I did some research, and Mama June's diner is the first diner that opened in all of Virginia. It was famous back in the day for its –" I look down at the notes I jotted down during my late night trip to the library, "For its shrimp and grits and Southern comfort food style dishes. Nobody ever talks about this place which is weird for such a historic landmark."

"Yeah, I've never even heard of it. Where is it?"

"Old Fields street. It's about a thirty-minute drive. I jotted down some questions I'd like you to ask the owner if he lets us film him. I was reading that the restaurant was burned down twice and had to be rebuilt by hand both times. That could be a good story."

"Okay, cool. Let me take a look at that notebook. Okay yeah. So, should I ask the questions like I'm a reporter or just like a normal person? Will I be in the documentary or will you cut me out? Oh, wait, don't include me today, I look like shit. I only had time to throw on clothes, I didn't style my hair or moisturize. Definitely not camera ready today. Maybe if…"

I ignore Charlie as he rambles on about the minutiae of today's interview. I mentally go over the other places I am hoping to stop by today. There is a book shop that used to be a library and the field I visited Sunday. I'm only going to the field because it is home to the state flower, the flowering dogwood. That is the only reason that the field is on the list.

I park on the side of the street before Charlie and I enter the diner. Charlie is still rambling on about something, and he does not stop talking until we sit down and look through the menus.

"Darce, they have an all you can eat option. Sausage, scramble, bacon, and all you can eat pancakes. I'm getting this and a bowl of those grit things you said this place is famous for. Should we talk to the owner before we eat or after?"

"We'll let them know before we order. It's not too crowded yet, so they might have some time now."

Charlie looks around for a waiter and when he spots one, he immediately flags him down. "Excuse me." The aproned man rushes over to us apologizing for not seeing us sooner. He fumbles with his notepad as he nervously asks, "What…what would you like to order, misters?"

Charlie smiles his award-winning grin and prepares to lay on the charm. "Can I get a coffee to start, tea for my companion and some toast and butter?" He pauses for dramatic effect, "And yes, I am the Charles Martin."

"Coffee, tea, and toast. Okay. And who is Charles Martin, sir?"

I almost laugh at Charlie's stunned expression.

"I am Charles Martin. I'm a famous actor."

"Sorry, sir. I didn't know, sir. Do you have any special requests?"

Charlie takes a moment to compose himself. The shock of the situation starting to wear off. "No need to apologize my good man. I guess my ego needed to be checked. My acting career is not of importance right now. My friend and I wanted to know if we could ask the owner some questions."

The waiter is overcome with a look of dread as he whispers, "The owner?"

"Yes, my friend is working on a documentary, and I want to ask the owner some questions about how the diner was started and how it was rebuilt after the fires a few years ago. Just questions about the history of the place. Is the owner in today?"

"No, sir. The owner is not here. Besides, this is a small diner. We're not important or valuable or nothin'. There are much better lots to buy in the uptown or further in downtown. We don't cause no trouble and we keep our mouths shut."

"Lots to buy? No, we're not looking to buy anything. We just want to ask some questions, that's it," I chime in confused by this turn of events.

"We got money if you want that. We can set something up. This diner has been in our family for the past 50 years. Please don't take it from us. We won't cause no trouble again."

"Nobody's going to take your diner," Charlie declares confused as well. "We just want to ask about the fire that occurred here –"

"I don't know nothin about no fire that happened. You must've heard wrong. We've always been quiet and kept to ourselves. Nobody set our place on fire."

"Somebody set your place on fire? Who?" I eagerly ask. I assumed that the fire was just from a kitchen accident. I was so focused on the rebuild, I never stopped to consider that the fire was no accident.

"Nobody started a fire! We ain't blamin nobody!" The waiter is extremely nervous now. He is jumpy and keeps looking back at the kitchen as if preparing to escape back there if Charlie or I give him reason to.

Sensing his agitation, Charlie quickly steps in to diffuse the situation. "Sorry, our bad. We were thinking of a different establishment. We are ready to order our breakfast if that's okay?"

The waiter looks between the pair of us and shakily asks, "What can I get you, sirs?"

"I'll have the Big Breakfast with the all you can eat buttermilk pancakes and a side of shrimp and grits."

"Just an order of pancakes," I reply as I close the menu and hand it back to the waiter. He bows his head and quickly scrambles back into the kitchen to relay our orders. Not once during that conversation did he look at either of our faces.

Our food promptly arrives, and I finish my pancakes quickly and wait for Charlie to polish off two helpings of pancakes before we pay the waiter and exit the diner.

"Well, that was weird."

"I don't understand," I declare shaking my head as I open the car door. "Why did he think that we wanted to be paid off? Why wouldn't he look at our faces? And what was with the constant looking back at the kitchen doors?"

"That was so weird, Darce. Mind you, the food was amazing. I could eat those grits for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But… I have no idea what that waiter was talking about." Charlie leans back and vaguely whispers, "I still can't believe that he had no idea who I was. That usually doesn't happen to me."

"That was very disheartening."

Charlie notices my defeated attitude and instantly plucks up. "Don't give up, Darce. There are still two more places on the list and we definitely can't mess up the last one. Let's go to the book store."

We do not run into any dodgy clerks or awkward conversations while we are at the bookstore because it is closed for the day. We head to the field a lot earlier than planned, but at least I am guaranteed to get some footage. I subconsciously look around for the girl from before, but of course the field is empty save the squirrels and birds flitting about.

"Wow, this place is beautiful. Real relaxing." Charlie flops onto a soft patch of grass and closes his eyes as the sun's rays warm his face. I take a picture of him amongst the dogwood and film some of the field as the sun rises above it. Once I am satisfied with my footage, I sit in the grass next to Charlie.

"Did you get the film you wanted?" Charlie asks with his eyes still shut and one arm flung across his forehead.

"Yeah, I got some good shots."

"Well, then I'm glad today wasn't a total waste. I'm busy next Saturday, but we can try again the Saturday after."

I nod even though he cannot see my gesture, and then I lean back and think about how much of a disappointment today was.

"I want to stop in this flower shop and pick up a bouquet."

I eye Charlie suspiciously. "Are you seeing this club girl today?"

He shrugs noncommittally as he strolls into a nearby flower shop. We drove back to the bookstore to see if it had opened since no hours were listed outside. The store still seemed dark, so we aimlessly ambled along the area surrounding the bookstore hoping to find something interesting nearby before stumbling upon the flower shop.

Not wanting to be assaulted with the strong scents of flowers, I opt to stay outside as Charlie picks up roses for his next great romantic tragedy. I walk back and forth along the road thinking about my next move. Should we try the diner again or should that be completely scratched off the list? Is that bookstore still open? Maybe we should have tried to open the door. It might have just looked dark from the outside. What store doesn't have hours listed? That's quite –

"Hello, young man, can I help you, on this blessed fine morning?" An older woman sitting under a canopy crisply calls out to me. I stop my pacing and move towards the voice. The woman is working on an embroidery pattern. The needle continues to weave in and out of the fabric while she waits for my response. A cart overflowing with twinkling jewelry and baubles stands behind her. Although her face does not betray her age, I can tell from her mannerisms and tone of voice that she is older maybe in her early 60's. She regards me with trepidation, cautiously, untrusting.

My poor people skills hinder me from disclosing vital details such as what my project entails and what I am looking for. Instead, I throw out the vaguest answer I could have possibly given. "Hello," I tip my head in greeting. "I am a filmmaker. I'm working on a project."

"Oh sir, I think you're in the wrong neighborhood. Walk straight until the end of this road, make a left on Jericho and a right on Elmer's and you'll be back where you belong." The woman promptly turns away from me, returning to her embroidery.

The disappointment from this morning emboldens me, and I find my voice. "No, I purposely came to this area. I was reading old documents about the town, and so much history happened, is happening here. I am looking for new movie ideas and am hoping to be inspired. There's so much bubbling beneath the surface of this town, and I want to pop that bubble and bring everything to the surface. Would you mind helping me talk to a diner owner"

The older woman doesn't even glance up once during my speech. In and out. In and out. She continues pulling the needle and thread through the fabric. This simply asking for help is not working. I need to start speaking a language that everybody understands.

I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm willing to pay for your help." This immediately gets the woman's attention. She places her embroidery carefully in her lap and looks up at me with a smile. "So, like a job? What would need to be done? And how much money are we talking?"

"Well, I need someone who knows the area to show me around, introduce me to locals. I'd be willing to pay by the hour starting at $8 an hour."

The woman's eyes go wide as she takes in what I'm saying. I wanted to be generous with the pay because I am expecting a lot from this guide. I need someone who knows the area in and out and will be willing to walk me around and do most of the talking. If all this woman does is sell jewelry on the side of the road all day, $8 an hour must sound like a godsend. She seems like she has seen a lot and knows everybody and everything that goes on here. I really want to get the history of that diner and there's no way I'm going to do it without the help of a local.

The woman laughs. "I'd think you were pulling my leg, but those shoes and that tie say you definitely have $8 an hour money. Why this area? Why not just do your little project about them other fancy folks you live with?"

I take a moment to think about my reasons for this project and what it means to me. I have to sell her on my vision. I'm going to need her if I want people to stop avoiding me and actually talk to me. "I'm a filmmaker. I enjoy capturing moments and discovering the story behind the moment. I grew up in Healdsburg, Virginia in a house on the hill, and when I finished college, I came back to this town and bought a house near my childhood home that I hope to die in. This is my home. I love this town, and I want other people to love it to. Those other fancy people I usually socialize with are only one part of the story of this town, to make a good film, a true film, I need to record all parts of the story. I want this to be as authentic as possible. I'm tired of the same old, I want to be inspired." I flirted with the idea of focusing only on the lives of "the fancy folks" I'm used to because it would be easier. But I already know that a film like that will be full of pretension and a whole lot of pomp and circumstance.

The woman continues to regard me suspiciously, but after a moment she declares, "Oh well, I just sell jewelry on the side of the street. These old bones can't walk more than a mile a day, but I know somebody who knows this town inside and out and is a mighty fine walker." She points across the street at a little shop. The sign atop reads Bennet's One Stop Shop. It's a decent sized building made from aged red brick with a muffled glass door.

"There's a girl in there, Elizabeth. She knows every nook and cranny in this area. If you want to know about the culture in this area, she'll definitely have it for you."

"Elizabeth," I whisper. "Who should I tell her sent me?"

"Tell her Mrs. Potts sent you."

"Thank you," I smile excited to finally be getting somewhere.

" Oh, and young man, make sure you got a raincoat on when you go around popping those bubbles. They tend to splat on everyone in the vicinity. Have a blessed one." Mrs. Potts returns to her embroidery without explaining her last statement as I cross the street and walk towards the store she pointed out. I pause before going in and instead look into the door hoping that nobody on the other side will be paying attention to me.

Immediately I spot the girl from the field. The unwitting subject of the photo that began this enlightening journey. Two black braids framing her face and a look of intense concentration in her eyes, there is a book with a damaged and worn cover in her hands. Despite my straining, I cannot make out the title from where I stand looking into the window. Her delicate fingers effortlessly turn a page as her eyes fly over the written words, her lips softly mouth the story she is so completely engrossed in.

Before I can tell it to stop and reconsider, my hand reaches out to grasp the metal door handle, pulls down on it, and pushes the door open. A little bell above the door jingles announcing my presence, and the young woman looks up at me. She looks different than she did in the field. Normal now almost plain. Nothing much stands out about her now that I am seeing her up close and in normal lighting. Our eyes meet.

Her eyes go wide with shock before quickly narrowing again with resentment. With a grimace, the girl from the field curtly asks, "Can I help you… sir?"