Right. Her gaze doesn't move from his profile, but something shutters in her expression. Just a colleague. She can do that.

It doesn't feel like a professional relationship. It's gone beyond that, she knows. Hasn't it? She knows she's told him she's going home, a million times, and hasn't he said right back to her, not until he said so? And now she's here, at his request -- no, his demand-- heading deep into personal territory with him.

Perhaps this isn't the date she turned down. She turns away, looking out the window.

"I don't need cheering up, thanks."

Good company, a shoulder to lean on, a good hard shag in the back seat of the Quattro, yes. But she doesn't need coddling. Not from him.