It'd be nice to say she didn't go to any particular lengths to look good for him, but she definitely spent more time getting ready than she should have. Picking an outfit that says we're friends and this isn't weird-- a cream-colored shell with a gray cardigan over, smart slacks and low heels. She looks put-together but-- she hopes-- not intimidatingly so.

Friends should be easy; they've been friends for decades, since long before they were romantically involved. It's too important a connection to wholly sever-- at least, that's how she feels about it; and he's here too, so she imagines he must feel the same-- but limited contact, in its way, is harder than none at all.

"Same as ever-- never enough coverage, always too much to do. But it's good." It tears her apart, and at the same time she thrives on it. "Thank you-- for coming out to meet me, I mean."