It's an autumn day when Rafael Barba struts into Forlini's, briefcase in hand, expecting to be unaccompanied. As per usual, Olivia had rejected his invitation citing Noah, leaving him to drink in solitude. However, as he looks to his left, he's met with a stunning surprise, one of which strikes him for its bemusing qualities.
Her form graces the doorway, unmoving. The form of Olivia Benson, that is. It's baffling, her appearance, considering the slow day, Noah, the previous rejection. However, Rafael resolves to savor the occasion, it being a rarity these days. He waves Olivia over; lips upturned as he sips a scotch. Her expression? It's hesitant as if she's doubting the purity of the man's intentions. She gradually approaches Barba, offering a smile, however, withholding a greeting. It's not her to break the silence.
The conversation is work-orientated, no surprise, it's seldom personal. However, the enjoyment Rafael garners is perplexing. He's stumbling, showcasing his affection, not for the subject matter, but for Olivia, it being evident as per his smile. Fortunately, his slip seems to be going unnoticed, Liv engrossed in the conversation, her lips pursed. Work isn't the happiest subject. Rafael, however? He's enjoying it, that is, until Olivia stands, preparing to exit.
His eyes trace her figure, curves igniting a moan, the distance unbearable, yet necessary if professionalism is to be maintained. He understands, can see it in her eyes, in her posture. She's leaving before this escalates, before he humiliates himself, faced with rejection. This feeling? It's his fault. He's fallen, too hard, too fast, unaware of the consequences. For him, the world revolves around her.
For Olivia? Well, It's a shame that she's still standing straight.