The young woman looks up and over at the man in front of her, ‘So much poise. It’s almost scary how clean he is,’ she thinks.
She gingerly takes his hand, smiling softly. “Yes, my father speaks very highly of you. You’ve been his topic of conversation when there’s an awkward silence. That is, until last week or so.”
She quickly, and subconsciously, wraps one foot around her ankle and points. She does this methodically, pointing and flexing.
“So, where do we go now? What do we do? I’m sure Baba has some long, elaborate schedule for me.”
Of course, Fisk would speak about him to her. Pride almost flit across his mind but then he controlled himself, looking back at her and mustering something that would be akin to a smile on someone other than him. Still, he felt that it wasn’t right to reply to that part of the conversation lest he came across as prideful in any way. He wasn’t someone who should feel pride in case he became complacent.
“Well, your father has a lot of things handled as it is. From what he has told me, you will not be helping him make any large decisions or anything of the like.”
“So, you’re my babysitter?” A thick brow arched slightly and a small smirk appeared.
She glanced over behind him and saw two men at the doorway, “My father isn’t one for subletly, is he?”
Point. Flex.
Frankly, she enjoyed irritating him, but she knows she’ll have to play nice when her father is around; but not now.