She moved like... how did the song go?... grace on the water. Elias found it difficult to keep his guard up -- found that the wall he hastily constructed against her was steadily crumbling. She could destroy him. If he let her. It helped that her costume hid her face -- but her voice, her voice called to him without trying. He knew now that he could not simply turn away from her. This was a madness. She was a sickness in his blood. How quickly she'd infected him.
But a deeper part of him leaned toward her, pulled his body with it, did not allow Elias to dismiss her or to flee in self-preservation. Instead, it pushed him to engage her, to enter into the world where she dwelled. He knew something of what she wanted: conversation, easy companionship, connection without pressure. Could he give her that? He could try; he would try.
"My responsibilities decreased recently," he responded - and his mouth went dry as she turned that dark, dark gaze directly on him. "The half brother of a young lady whom I prefer to see well recently showed up looking for her. He stayed with me for some time, then split his time between me and her, but just returned to New York to tend to personal affairs. It has been some time since someone lived with me, and I had forgotten the time expenditure involved. Now that I have that time back again, I find myself..."
... He found himself, against all odds, more lonely now that Dov was gone. The boy had been a menace to the peace and cleanliness of his apartment. But Elias felt the troubled young man's absence more keenly than he'd expected. But that was nothing to share with Ms. St. Giles with her gentle, easy smile. He spread his large hands briefly before setting one back around his glass and curling the other into a fist on the table.
"... freer than I expected." And then, automatically and without thought, "It is a pity your employer keeps your time so jealously." But he stopped himself from saying the next sentence.