[At the Club]
[He serves himself slowly. Strangely, each time he seems to reach for a plate, Cornelia seems to reach for the same. Their hands brush each other on several occasions. If Oliver does it on purpose, it doesn't show on his face. He takes several bites in silence before reaching for his glass of wine, his knuckles barely grazing her arm before touching the glass. There,s only a soft smile on his face as he breaks the silence, trying for a neutral subject to discuss]
Tell me, Miss Euphemia, do you practice any form of art?