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She drank her coffee, gazing at the building outside the window. She had an article to write, but in a way she had come here to frown at the place from a far. If she hadn't been looking up from her work so often, she wouldn't have noticed a man sitting a table away doing the same. He wore a suit, an awfully expensive suit given that no one had died. He had a tiny notepad before him that he scribbled in like lightning. Taking inspiration, she went back to editing the last few paragraphs of the coming year's programme. When she looked up next, she caught the eye of the man only an arm's reach away, and the space between them had a glaring silence to it she just had to fill. "Do you think that place throws a good Christmas party?" Her question made him laugh, his icy aura cracking a little. "I doubt it. Why, are you invited?" "They make a donation to my company - it's a courtesy thing. It's supposed to be rather awkward, though - I wouldn't know who to even bring to a place like that, where I don't know anyone at all."His smile was like a cat's - there was something awfully devious about it. "Not a very pleasant thing, my dear, to send someone such a place against their will on Christmas Eve - is it?"She saw something in his eyes - went for it."I don't know. I like for someone else to take control now and then." His smile shrunk, and for a moment she was sure embarassment alone would kill her. "Tell me, what are you doing New Year's Eve?"She gulped. "Heading out to New York. I'm not from here - or there - so I like to explore when I can. I miss the snow."He considered her words, turned them over in his mind."If you want a decent mulled wine..." He scribbled an address. "Try here. If my work over the next few weeks is successful, I'll be in the city and I can meet you there at seven on the 31st." She squeezed his hand as he gave her the paper, ripped from his notebook. She felt a thrill of excitement at the touch.He stroked her wrist before she pulled away. He was standing now, getting ready to go. "Don't go to that party, my dear. It's not a place for a girl like you to be seen. Stick to art galleries." "And if someone forces me?" she said coyly, knowing full well she could easily back out. They were close and speaking in near-whispers, like old lovers. "Then I will be very annoyed at whoever is having all my fun for me. If we were in a more private venue I'd explain at length. You seem very sweet." He bent and kissed her cheek. "Stay like that for me." He left without looking back at her, though if he did, he would have seen her blushing and grinning from ear to ear. *Good grief, this place could easily break her budget with just one glass of wine. She was so cold - the heating in her friend's apartment had gone out like a light, and sapping heat from each other in a blanket fort, while cute, didn't do her circulation any favours. Being the kind of place it was, she had worn a fur coat - antique, a gift from a friend. Still, that and her thick tights couldn't save her from the cold. Naturally, she'd left her gloves in her other coat's pocket. Still, she wondered why on earth she was here. She had followed the news report. "Don't freeze on my account, liebling."Satan himself, he could easily be. She turned, her coat brushing the lapels of the man's jacket. He'd just stepped out of a taxi. "You came," she breathed, shocked to see him before her. He took her hand and kissed it. "I was prepared to end up alone and stranded.""A little lady of little faith. Your hands are so cold, my dear. What do you have under there? A little black dress, Miss Chanel herself? Shall we?" There was a jazz band playing inside, and a waiter at the door took her coat, revealing the lace black dress underneath. She saw his glance of appraisal as he handed over his own coat, and she had to chance it. "You might have had a preview, if I went to that Christmas party with you." She expected him to pause at least. But he just cast her a sidelong smile as he escorted her to the bar, to a sofa beside it hidden in an alcove. "Was that a bite, Miss...?" "Y/N," she said. "Charmed. Now, can I order you a mulled wine to warm those freezing hands?" She nodded. He signalled for the bartender and within seconds they were sipping contentedly and she had sidled in against him, the jazz band fading a little with his arm against hers. "So, um... you probably know your advice saved my life... you told me not to go to Nakatomi. But... I wanted... no, I don't want to ask. But I have to - your name is Hans Gruber, isn't it?"His expression didn't change. It just got a degree colder between them. "Not a very believable story, if you were to tell anyone."
"I don't - don't want that. Aren't you... doesn't everyone think you're dead?" He shrugged. "I nearly was. Fortune favours the wise, and the rich, and now I am both and bold on top of that. But you... you stay a tortured artist, liebling. You stay soft." She was about to say 'I'm not soft at all', but she was talking to a hardened killer. She swallowed, thinking that there'd been plenty of hostages that survived. But there had been a few who died, as well. Killed. If she had gone to the party, what would have happened? He - Hans - signalled the waiter. Two more glasses appeared near instantly and she found him asking her about herself - it had been prompted by him telling her that her hands were still ice cold. Then he knew the broken heater situation, and a few other things, then a few more on top of that. "You know," he said, pushing a curl of hair behind her ear as he leaned in closer. "My accommodation has no such problem. Tonight I'm feeling generous.""I'm sure you knew you had me trapped since the moment you saw me waiting, Hans," she murmured.