"So, how long are you in Tokyo?" Was the first question he asked when we sat down on the train.
Nothin personal. Nothing truly about me. Just a time frame. Maybe he was trying to decipher how much time he had to wait before his lawyer could meet with my dad's attorney (oh god, dad is going to kill me) to get this sorted out and wiped from history.
"Another month," I told him. "And you?"
"I'll be leaving in four days," he said. "I have some prep work I have to do for my job."
The conversation fell flat. I was not interested in his job, though that's probably most of what he cared about. I glanced through the window across the train car and saw which stop we were approaching. I stood and grabbed the overhead bar to steady myself.
"I thought your stop was-"
"Change of plans, husband," I said. "After the scam to which we were just subjected, I think we deserve to have a little fun. How about it? My treat."
He looked at me over his glasses, which was way more endearing than I expected.
"What's your name?" He asked. Finally, a real question.
"It's Harley. What's yours?"
"Thomas. Thomas Hawthorne."
The train slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.
"Come on then, Tom," I smiled and hopped out of the train to the pavement.