Him
He can't stop thinking about her.
Good or bad, he isn't sure. Good, because the memory of her bright eyes and the charming way she tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she pondered her query serve as a lovely distraction from the composition he's been laboring over for the better part of a month.
Bad, well….for much the same reason.
Still, he has tried everything he can to take his mind from her in the twelve hours since their underground encounter. As much as he tries to be subtle, apparently he's failed miserably, evidenced by the fact of Nadir's exasperated comment as they left the meeting earlier that afternoon.
"What was with you in there? You acted like you'd rather be anywhere else!"
He vaguely recalls mumbling something along the lines of "I'm fine," as he brushed past his oldest friend into the waiting car. Bernard may be out of commission, but thankfully the company had sent a backup driver in time to avoid the evening commute.
That thought jolts him out of his musing for a moment enough to check his phone as it pings and…good. The balloon bouquet was delivered, complete with a selfie of a grinning Bernard flashing a thumbs up, a visibly exhausted woman glaring at him from behind, a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
Thanks boss! Mom and little lady are here and healthy!
Despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth lift into a smile as he types back a reply, quick and cordial. Before he can place the phone aside, a new text from Nadir lights up the screen.
Really? A black balloon with a thumbs up emoji with #done was the best you could find for a newborn?
He scoffs audibly, annoyance instantly chasing the warmth, fleeting as it had been, as his fingers fly across the screen in response.
They were sold out of 'congratulations'. It was the best I could do.
Besides, wasn't it the thought that counted? And Bernard had seemed pleased enough, even if his wife didn't appreciate the congratulatory humor…
His texts merits no response so he sets the phone aside with a shrug, content to let his friend fume in private. At least he sent something. Let Nadir chew on that before finding fault with his wishes.
Turning his attention back to the music, he lets out a sigh. Resistance is futile at this point. He knows it, should have known it an hour ago and finally lets himself surrender to the truth of it.
Nothing productive will be accomplished tonight. Not while his mind's eye is occupied with the dark-haired beauty with a renegade violin case. It's as simple as that with one obvious solution.
He needs to find her.
Clearly, she was not where she needed to be when they met- and he uses that term loosely. To return on that train would be futile unless she somehow were to lose herself again and, while it is certainly possible, he acknowledges that she is likely too intelligent to make that mistake again.
So that bears the question: how to go about finding her?
He pushes to his feet with a sigh, abandoning the piano, music and pencil and proceeds to pace the entire length of his living room, pausing to take-in the uptown skyline, allowing a wild idea to push its way to the front of his mind, even as he dashes for his phone, frantically typing out a new message to Nadir.
Does anyone still use Craigslist?