She stepped out of the car, then paused before walking off. I was already reaching for the handbrake when she leaned back in, one hand resting on the roof, eyes locking onto mine.
"Want to come up for coffee?" she asked. "It's been a while since we actually talked."
I glanced at the dashboard clock. "Uh… sure. Your place, or a café?"
"My place."
I grinned. "Bold invitation after accusing me of flirting, Ivy Komb. Am I missing a message here?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Suck my ass. Just get out of the car."
I killed the engine and followed her inside.
The elevator ride was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of cables and the faint scent of her perfume. She tapped her foot impatiently as we rose, arms folded loosely.
The doors opened. She unlocked her apartment, stepped inside, and shrugged off her coat.
"So," she asked over her shoulder, hanging it up, "what kind of coffee do you want?"
"Actually," I said, drifting toward the kitchen, "I want a milkshake."
