Spiky Stroll

"I don't go in much for games, Juli," Vanea informs the other woman as she strides up to their meeting spot so cryptically appointed.

"There are nearly a dozen identical coffee shops in this fifteen-block radius," replies Juli. "Picking one at random was the most sensible solution for me, but what fun would it be for you if I just told you: Saxby's, Fourth and Main, 3:30, dress your nicest?"

Self-consciously, Vanea does an automatic check of her appearance, as if she wouldn't agree with Juli's assessment. But the point is clear - they both work enough that to have their leisure-time appointments delivered with calendar invites would hardly be enjoyable.

"You're an interesting enough woman without this."

"And with?" pries Juli.

"With..." Vanea considers, "...you're playful, deeply intelligent, and a bit of a scamp."

"Scamp?" Juli feigns a shudder. "I don't know if I've been called anything that piquant since I was a young woman, and I didn't appreciate it then."

Maybe scamp is the wrong word for such a thoughtful errand. "If you meet me where the shadow's long, then you know you can't go wrong." Please.

Vanea watches for Juli's order, too, expecting something businesslike, classic; maybe even a little basic. She's no expert, but a cortado seems to fit that bill, as does her own vanilla cold brew.

"I'm sure you'll remember all this."

"As long as you don't mind."