"Lucas said you wanted me."
She leant in beside him, proffering a cup of coffee, "No doubt your last one went cold."
It had gone cold and yes, he did want her, wanted nothing else but her; not that he had said as such to Lucas, in fact he had said nothing at all to Lucas.
"Thank you," he took the mug.
She looked out at the city and wondered just how many times they had both stood here not saying the things that really mattered.
"So was there something?" she asked.
"No, not really, I just came up for some fresh air."
"Oh."
She stood, not wanting to move.
And so she did not move, she stayed.
"I miss Daniel," she said quietly.
Unreadable, he continued to gaze out at the skyline.
"What, missed his hidden fascist tendencies?"
She laughed, shaking her head, "No, perhaps not those."
"Maybe his questionable morals, then?"
"Those neither, I think.."
"Ah, it must be the money, then Ruth: the penthouse and the fridge full of Krug?"
"Well…." she hesitated, playfully.
"And there we have it," he said with a small smile.
"No, you're right," she said conclusively, "I realise that I don't miss him at all."
She let the moment pass. But not the opportunity.
"It's you that I miss, Harry."
He did not move.
"And this…" she said, her hand sliding across the back of his, caressing his knuckles which were tightly gripping the bar before him as though he feared he might be about to plummet.
Very slowly he turned and dared to look at her.
"... I've missed ... this," she said as they stared at each other, unblinking: so much unspoken.
"I can't…." he shook his head, tormented: his need to say so much, tearing at him.
"... I can't 'date' you, Ruth," he said, quietly, "I can't have dinner with you, or go out occasionally… I can't do it by half. Not any more.
"I can only do everything ... it has to be everything. All the time. It has to be ... we have to be every morning, every night, every week, every year. It has to be all and permanent, for as long as we have left.
"It has to be that, Ruth. Do you understand? I can't do part time and I can't pretend, not any more, not with you.
"I can't pretend with you."
He finally stopped, both for breath and to give her opportunity to speak, but when she tried, he stopped her.
"Please don't tell me now. Please think about it. So that when you say it, whatever you say, it truly is your decision. Not one to be taken back, not one to be rescinded, but an honest and a permanent decision. Do you understand, Ruth?" he asked her once more.
She nodded her head, not wanting to take her eyes from his impassioned, honest, open face.
He twisted her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently, knowing that all his hopes lay in that small, delicate hand.
And then he walked away.
They had finally, finally managed to say something that mattered.