He saw that look sometimes on Fridays, deep in the night, when the unfortunates of this city came out for what little help they could get. Always at least one of them carried the look that something or someone was breathing behind them. The woman was haunted. Beautiful. But haunted, first. Unlike his customers on Friday nights, however, this woman had something else: a deep-seated strength at her core that shone through her reserve. From his first impression, Elias immediately set her in the category of people he wanted to get to know -- and he rarely wanted to know about many people at all.
Living at Pax had challenged his typically-fierce introversion.
"Ms. Shepherd," he said gravely, gesturing to the seat across from him, by way of invitation. "Thank you for coming." The woman's clear nervousness cleared away his own.
It didn't feel appropriate to offer to buy her something to drink, but at the same time, she had come directly to the table they agreed on -- there'd been no hesitation as she passed the counter. He perhaps would have offered her the time to fetch a refreshment for herself, but it seemed unnecessary.
"And thank you," he continued, as she sat down, "For agreeing to speak with me. I think you know - just as I do - that something was very wrong that night."