Chapter 4: Patterns
631 Words
Bobby didn’t have business in Sales, but that never stopped him.
“Good morning, Atty. Bobby!”
“Morning,” he replied easily, slowing near one of the desks.
“How’s Legal these days?” one of the girls asked, smiling.
“Trying to keep up with all of you,” he said lightly.
A small laugh rippled through the group—comfortable, familiar.
Another staff member nudged her friend. “Sir, you’re here often now, ah.”
“Concerned?” Bobby asked.
“Curious,” she teased.
He smiled. “Bad habit. I wander.”
They laughed again. Easy. Effortless.
That was who he was here.
Across the floor, Athena noticed—not the conversation, but the pattern.
She stood near the far end, reviewing documents with a staff member, her awareness moving independently. Tracking. Measuring.
He moved differently around others—lighter, looser, uncomplicated.
“You’re adjusting too early,” she said, eyes still on the file. “Let them finish speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am – sorry - Athena,” the staff corrected quickly.
“That’s fine,” she said evenly. “Just listen longer.”
A ripple of laughter came from Bobby’s side of the floor. She didn’t look. Didn’t need to.
Minutes later, he drifted closer—not directly, never directly. A stop here, a comment there, a question that didn’t need asking until he was within range.
“You’re here again.”
Her voice came before she looked up.
Bobby smiled faintly. “I’m consistent.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
Now she looked at him—measured, unhurried.
Behind him, one of the staff called out, “Sir, don’t forget lunch with us later, ha!”
“I don’t forget important things,” Bobby replied over his shoulder.
“Wow—we’re important!” someone teased.
“You are,” he said easily.
Another round of laughter.
Athena watched that briefly—the ease, the familiarity—then returned her gaze to him. “You’re popular.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“With Legal?”
“With being approachable.”
“That’s intentional.”
“Most things are.”
A beat. The noise of the floor carried on, but around them, it felt quieter. More focused.
“You don’t talk to me like that,” she said—not accusing, just stating.
Bobby stilled slightly. “Like what?”
“Light. Easy.”
A pause.
“Should I?”
She held his gaze. “Is that how you prefer to be taken seriously?”
That landed. Suddenly, this wasn’t about charm.
Bobby exhaled a quiet breath, something shifting beneath the surface. “I don’t think you’d respond to that.”
“No.”
“I figured.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“You’re different with me,” she added.
Not a question.
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect.
“Yeah.”
That honesty sat between them—unexpected, unpolished, real.
“Atty. Bobby, quick question!” someone called from the side.
He didn’t turn immediately, didn’t break eye contact right away.
That alone was noticeable.
Athena picked up her folder. “I have a client.”
“Field?”
“Yes.”
She stepped past him—close enough to feel presence, not touch.
Then, slightly— “You should go back. People are waiting.”
A glance toward the staff calling him, then back to her. “And you’re not?”
She paused—just enough.
“I didn’t say that.”
And walked away.
Bobby stood there for a second before finally turning back to the staff, slipping easily into his usual tone.
“Sorry,” he said. “What did I miss?”
But this time, it took him a second longer to get there.
- Writer
