Dora smoothed a hand over her hair as she slipped into a chair at Finnegan’s. Elroy had reminded her while she was working that she’d made a lunch date with Marcus, who she’d seen dreadfully little of lately, and that the time was coming up. She’d pulled herself out of her work, put on a nice but regular robe over the clothes she’d been working in, and headed for the pub.
She was actually a couple of minutes early, unusual for her, who usually pegged it right on the minute. Never late, never early, except today, apparently. So she snagged the small table before anyone else could and scanned the place, on the look out for her friend. They had some catching up to do.