Yes Ms Romanoff

7. Coffee

The thought of seeing Ms Romanoff makes me slightly nervous as I don't know where we stand. I feel like last night we made some sort of breakthrough but I know she's not going to change instantly. It makes me comfortable in knowing that today is my free day which gives me time to explore the city and I won't have to be with her the whole day. I decide to stay snuggled in my bed for a little longer while scrolling aimlessly through instagram. Thoughts about Ms Romanoff run through my head and I know deep down I need to talk to her, though there's nothing I fear more. Curiosity and boredom take over and I google her, not for the first time. Nearly every article on the web is praising her for her achievements at such a young age blah blah blah. It's superficial stuff, none of these articles actually provide any true depth, they don't provide anything about her past. Every single picture of her captures her beauty but I'm yet to find one of her smiling and a part of me saddens at the fact. Deciding not to waste anymore of the precious day I get up, the Sun now fully set in the sky. I get dressed in some black business pants and a white button up blouse. It's extremely excessive to go get coffee, but it's the most casual thing in my suitcase as I thought this Paris trip would be all business. As Im gathering my phone and wallet I hear a gentle knock on the door. There's only two people it could be, Ms Romanoff or Harley and cross my fingers taking a deep sigh hoping it's the later. I open the door to find Ms Romanoff, we nearly match as she wears similar business pants, that are grey and a navy blouse. Her hair is free from restrictions and falls gracefully over her shoulders, similar to mine. Her face reflects my inner nerves and it surprises me as I've never seen it on her before.

"Would you like to go get some coffee?" Her voice is calm, every ounce of authority is gone and she looks at me like I could crush her world if I said no.

"Offcourse." I reply smiling warmly.

This gives me the opportunity to talk to her and hopefully ease the nervous tension. We walk down the hall side by side, not saying a word and continue that way until we're out on the streets of Paris.

"You're dressed up" she observes.

"I only packed business stuff, didn't realise I'd have some free time"

We continue to walk in silence aimlessly. It feels like I'm following her, yet she may be following me. I can't help but to notice her gaze settling upon me in my peripheral vision as I look around, taking in the unique sights and smells of the city. I can sense she wants to say something but everytime she goes to speak nothing comes out. We eventually find a small coffee shop. It's oozes a homely feeling and the smell of fresh pastry makes my stomach grumble. We settle down at our table outside, ordering coffees. The tension if still thick and I find myself asking about how to relieve it. I don't want to push her out of fear she'll retaliate, but if I don't try at all, I may miss something that could help.

"I think we should talk" I say, trying to make my voice as friendly and kind as possible.

"I'm not good at it" she responds, her voice matching my own.

"You are one of the -"

The young waitress interrupts my sentence as she places down our coffees. I give her a warm smile and thank her, in which she replies with something in French before walking away. Ms Romanoff reads my looks of puzzlement as I hardly speak any French.

"She said your welcome gorgeous." Her expression is truly unreadable. It makes me wonder if she was even thinking anything at all, but the slight crease between her eyebrows says otherwise.

"Ok as I was saying, your one of the best talkers, you convince people everyday to choose you, to choose your company. If you weren't any good at talking, you wouldn't be the successful individual you are today" I state, trying to get her to open up and say more than just a few words.