where: the heritage vault art exhibition who: @ccxcorioni and nolan fitzpatrick
Things had been odd since their night out the week prior — which was to say, ultimately, that things had actually been normal at the law firm. Too normal, in a way that Nolan, admittedly, had been a bit surprised about that next Monday morning, his hangover long gone but with certain memories surely remaining. Ones that included the subtle smell of her perfume, the soft skin of her cheek against his fingertips—but none of that followed them through the doors aside from the occasional joke or jab about him losing. And so, Nolan did what he always did best and filed the whole thing away and pretended it hadn’t rattled something in him. Just some drunken nonsense, he told himself. A few flirtatious missteps that didn’t mean anything. Nothing that needed dissecting. So he kept it all at face value and leaned into routine, business as usual. That was the safe play. The smart one. Because why the hell would he want anything more than that with CC anyway?
Still, it was hard to ignore the flutter in his chest when she came into view. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, letting the burn distract him, smoke curling between his fingers. "Think half of your dress went missing," he joked, a smug grin twitching at the corners of his lips. He hadn’t put much thought into the exhibition’s theme himself, maybe nudged the edge of his usual, but nothing dramatic. Clearly, she’d gone the extra mile and of course, he noticed. Too easily. "I dunno, Corioni. Between this and that outfit you wore to the yacht party, I'm startin' to think we need to revise the office dress code." He exhaled, smoke spilling into the cool night air. "Been here for a bit, didn't see you inside. You just get here?"
