Her touch was so soft, a stark contrast to the firm handshake that greeted him. And in that moment, he saw it again. Blooming flowers, Sheaves and Poppies. Chloe. Despite her handshake, he took her hand and ghosted his lips over it for a moment. "A pleasure," he said.
"I'm from New York. Went to school in Cali; that's why my accent's not quite Bronxian, if you will," he said. "And you?" he inquired, wanting to know more about her, and wanting to know -- more than that -- why it was that she made him feel that something inside, why it was that she made his vision swim. But my, it was a beautiful vision, each time he saw her.