Well, a name was only skin deep. The red-head shrugged, deciding that the matter wasn't worth much of her time. She turned back around, ready to leave, and nearly bumped into a different face. She stepped just short of smacking into him, getting a glance up into his face; glasses, light curly hair, and a disposition that definitely wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Sorry," she said, stepping back, and adjusting her jacket. "Got lost in thought, wasn't looking."

There was something off about him, whoever he was. Isabelle couldn't put her finger on why, but something about him looked familiar. It was only when she traced her memory back through the week that she realized exactly where she saw him; on the subway track, on her way to work.

[i]He was playing that cello,[/i] she remembered. It had made her angry, whatever he had played, and she couldn't place why. As always, the anger had faded when he song stopped, but it was strong enough for her to remember.