[She's early too, but not at the meeting place: she's been in the clothing shop across from the cafe, trying on this and that, watching people come and go in the mirrors as she pretends to coo over her skirts. She sees Jesse arrive, notes the nervousness in his body language, the lack of co-conspirators in the wings. With a few minutes to spare, she buys a blouse that was on sale to placate the ladies at the boutique, returns everything else to the racks, and heads over, scooting in the chair across from Jesse, twisting her hair around one finger, a shy, awkward tell of her own.]

Hi. We - spoke recently, I think? Um.

[She glances down at her lap.]

I'm sorry again for making assumptions.