While he gave his swift assessment of her, one of Marlo's manicured brows mirrored his, lifting upward as recognition flickered behind her shielded, yet steady, gaze. She knew this face — not well, and not enough for a name to fight through the migraine, but she was sure she'd exchanged words with him before. Or maybe chips — a game, perhaps?
The corners of her lips tugged upward, both at that thought and at his quip, but she gave no response just yet. Instead she let her eyes linger as he stepped closer, taking a casual inventory. He was certainly easy on the eyes, but she quickly ruled out attraction as the link. No, no... If that were it, something told her she would have remembered to get his name. Well dressed, with tailored fits, clean hems, and a nice watch; he had some money...
Money. That was it. And isn't it always?
If it had to be measured, she would say she's just shy of 95% certain that they raised some together at a casino-themed charity event last fall. Because even the clean-cut ones love to gamble if it means they get to write it off for taxes. Normally Marlo would rag on them – hedge fund cowboys in cufflinks playing pretend at the tables — but affordable housing was a cause near and dear to her bandaged heart. Former BedStuy baby and all.
Her thoughts cut out as he spoke again. "You know—" she started, about to remind him that she hadn't even told him what she was looking for yet. But then she fell silent again. How out of character for her.
By the time the boxes were in her hands, she had already caught onto his painfully accurate recommendations and it hit her: he already knew what she needed, just from a mere glance. "Maybe you're a god-send," she said after a beat, trying to recover. "Our eye-levels are clearly very different, so who knows if I ever would've found the 'real stuff'"—she added in air-quotes—"if you hadn't come along."
His final words earned a laugh, even if it did put extra pressure on her sinuses. "So thanks, Doc." She said jokingly, dropping the boxes into her basket on the floor. Then, figuring seeing her face might jog his memory too, she lifted her sunglasses and finally gave him a proper look. And then squinted from the light again. "That is what you are, right?" She asked, genuinely. Doctors make decent money and like to donate to things, right? Maybe that's why he was at the event.
"Or do you just like to give unauthorized medical advice to strangers in need?"