18 minutes, specific and precise, his head jerked back slightly in surprise. Well that was unexpected but the nod from Serge was a grateful one. A woman who understood the difference between an exact time and ‘just a few minutes’ was a relief; however when he entered her apartment per her recommendation he found himself tightening his hands into fists in the pockets of his slacks.

Her place was messy; a lived in messy but that didn’t matter to him. How much trouble was it to put something away when you were done? Clean up your clothes? Dust, sweep, mop, and vacuum daily? Was he the only one on the planet who felt like this?! Probably… Serge had an odd obsession with cleaning and really enjoyed the fashion industry. This would probably explain why his home looked like a showroom floor more than an expensive flat in the downtown. 

As she readied herself Serge found that he was getting more and more uneasy in her apartment and it wasn’t until minute 15 that he rolled up his sleeves an unintentionally began to clean. His method of cleaning was practical, useful and smooth. Basically he threw away any wrappers he found into her garbage can and straightened up the living room; taking the liberty upon himself to make sure her clothes were in pales by colors and styles on her couch. Since no standard method of man-kind could decipher whether her clothe were clean or dirty, he left the piles stack neatly together.

By the time she came out he was back by the door, still unsatisfied by how the room looked but he was much less antsy about it.  Despite her lack of the top-of-the-line appearance, she was dressed much more professionally than the other people that had requested to speak to Mister Wilmer, though when dumped the contents of her backpack onto the couch he nearly had a heart attack and wanted to ask her if she needed a couple extra minutes to repack her bag but her statement of ‘ready when you are’ said that asking something like that probably wouldn’t make much of a difference.

A nod rose and fell his head as he pulled open the door. Despite it being her house, he let her out first, for he was raised that a lady walks through a door first. Period. As he shut the door behind them and stepped out of the way so she could lock it he spoke. “18 minutes exactly, I am impressed.” Serge being impressed to the point of surprised does not come often so this moment of praise was rare even to his teammates. 

Upon their arrival to the car he opened up the back seat behind the passenger’s once she was in and buckled he shut the door and went around the SUV to the front. Climbing in, he buckled up and started the engine. The music on the radio was attached to his phone and what was recently playing was the end of ‘Back in Black’ by ACDC, which then moved into ‘My Way’ by Frank Sinatra. They moved swiftly through town as Serge drove the stick shift with a practiced hand and pulled into a coffee shop. Rolling down the window he ordered, “One large mocha breve’ extra hot with an extra shot of espresso.” He then turned his blue gaze to the reflection of his passenger in the back of the SUV. “What would you like Ms. Barker?”