At the image conjured by Adam's comments of scribed complaints flooding over the edges of desk, each filled with colorful language and an overwhelming sense of entitlement, that same, soft, throaty laughter slid free again from the delicate parting of Viola's lips, a touch of girlishness shining through a countenance for which most had attributed a certain maturity beyond her years even in her childhood years. This was only further affirmation of the easy manner that existed between them, the inherent rapport that meant his words and gestures communicated a deeper knowledge of exactly what drew out her sense of humour, her confidence, or admiration. It was the exact quality that Viola thought if she had been the sort to preoccupy herself with romantic endeavors, she might have included in her specifications of type and what was important to her in a partner. Yet, nothing remotely romantic could even be considered here. She felt nothing of that baffling, mercurial surge of emotion that transpired when she thought of certain someone, who was by far a less ideal candidate. With Adam, it was almost familial.
"I must admit I've fared little better than you. Beyond the commute to work, the hours I put in there, and then what I try to spend with my sister, there hasn't been too much time for idle socialization. I'm surprised I've managed to find the time to unpack most of things," Viola admitted her own failings in that arena. Yet, she was not of the mindset that life must be all work and no play. Good health and happiness was a careful balance of both. "I did, however, see a recent advertisement for a morning yoga class that would fit nicely into my schedule. It would at least give me a chance to meet some people outside of those at the hospital. I have to say it was a happy accident that day the elevator stopped and gave us the chance to get acquainted, or I may well and truly have known no one I could call a friend in the city."