Noah tucked the handkerchief in his back pocket and smiled, taking her hand. She had a firm, no-nonsense handshake.
"Hello, Dr. Verma," he replied warmly, then let go when a couple of teenage girls jostled him, singing out, "Sorry, sorry," before disappearing again.
"I'm Dr. Browning. The stinky and loquacious. But feel free call me Noah, if you'd rather. I'm not at all the formal sort."
Dr. Verma was perhaps her mid-thirties, tall and slim, very striking, with huge dark eyes and a mass of wavy black hair that immediately caught the eye.
"I've become accustomed to the smell, but I doubt you have. Would you like to step out into fresher and cooler air to talk for a moment? I can offer you tea or coffee or just water, if that's your preference." He held up his mostly-empty bottle and gave it a little shake. Certainly fewer people, at any rate." He gestured toward the back entrance, offering peace and quiet and coolness.