In Ida’s mind, it was simply the logical leap to imagine Mister Greengrass had experience with love. She inquired much like any investigator would, acting on an instinctive hunch, but with a full disregard – she realized in that moment – for personal. Fucking. boundaries. The young woman could have grimaced over her mistake but realized it too slowly, which at least gave her the ability to gracefully filter her expression into a faint frown. Up to now, Mister Greengrass had been entirely engaged with her – er, maybe a bit too engaged. But crossing this line touched a nerve that finally made him pull away, and she watched him glance around absently until he located his drink.

Right. Ida’s mind raced. They were out here– how did they get here– what were they– ah. Of course. The lovely gardens were where they were initially headed, sometime before she got ambushed by a sugar cloud and devolved into a messy, too-honest state. Mister Greengrass brought out the facts of what she said again, his examination causing her to nearly flinch. While what he said read more like a sincere interest to help than a jab at her, in a way, the sincerity made her feel even worse about her callousness.

“Um, might we walk,” she mumbled her request, forgetting her drink conveniently behind and deciding she needed oxygen to sustain her wilting brain. She regretted every ounce of liquor she’d had, primarily because it removed her filter. And in the end Mister Greengrass was still Mister Greengrass - vaguely a friend, hardly someone to say everything that’s been said. So… should she continue to be honest with him?

Well. He already knew the worst. What could possibly make what she said worse?

“It would be difficult for me to see her, if we don’t meet again tonight,” she admitted after they’d walked a bit, realizing quickly then that yes, it could get worse. “You see, she barely knows me at all.” Love at first sight, and all that poets said.

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