Rory
The floor emptied out around nine, one department at a time, until the only sound left was the hum of the building's climate control and the occasional distant ping of an elevator carrying someone home for the night, and somewhere in that slow, gradual quiet, the space between Dray and me had shifted into something I didn't have a careful name for yet.
We were three hours into a project neither of us had chosen to still be working on — a client presentation due first thing that had ballooned, through a series of small revisions, into an entire evening neither of us had planned for — and somewhere around hour two, the professional distance he usually kept so meticulously in place had started, almost imperceptibly, to slip.
I'd offered, twice, to just finish the deck myself and send
