(2019-01-11) Just Business
A teacher and an entrepreneur meet in a coffee shop.

A well-dressed and slightly swarthy older gentleman bustles into the busy coffee shop just as a couple of college students are bustling out. The door's held for them, and then he shoulders his way through with a flicker of a smile as one of them greets him as 'professor Khan'. Ambling on up to the counter, hands in the pockets of his coat, he waits his turn in line to order.

"I'll contact you in the next few days." Laya assures Sam, that smile returning once more, glancing down at the phone in her lap, "In fact, I'll be sure to get in touch with you very soon, Sam. Good luck with your current arrangements, I think you are far braver than me."

"It's nice up there, honestly." Sam says to Layla, flashing an easy smile once he's fully dressed. "It was good to see you again and I'll watch for your message. Have a good night." The author makes his way to the door and spots Sevin on the way out of the shop. He has a pleasant smile for the professor, raising a hand to wave to him on his way past. "Evening, Sevin."

Catching the wave aimed his way, Sevin returns it with a small, though sincere smile as he's stepping up to place his order. "Take care," he offers tersely, then to the barista, "Medium medium." A beat. "Please." See? He has manners occasionally. Layla garners a brief glance, and then he's digging for his wallet.

"Good night, Sam." Layla offers, giving him a wave before she looks towards the newer arrival. The look is plainly curious, and considering, but she doesn't bother the man. Instead now that Sam is exiting, she turns her attention back to the work that brought her there in the first place, reopening her laptop to look up something. As soon as she's found it, she picks up her phone, calling someone about setting up a tour of something.

Order paid for, Sevin eases off to the side with a half-lean against the counter to wait for it. This puts him at a perfect vantage point to observe the dark-haired woman in the scarf and motorcycle jacket. Or it would be, if he didn't immediately pull his phone out like he's got a message waiting that isn't going to reply to itself. Pale green eyes are in striking contrast to his slightly darker complexion, and do occasionally flick to the woman across from him while he types away.

"Perfect. I'll be by to pick up the keys in the morning." Layla replies to whoever is on the phone, her accent is British, but is the sort of British English of someone that just learned it from someone with that accent. She scribbles down a note on a piece of paper next to her laptop, then ends her phone call before setting the phone down.

There is a few moments spent finishing her coffee before she leans back in her chair, letting her eyes scan the room before they settle on Sevin, "Sevin, was it?" She wonders, having heard what Sam called him on his way out.

Suh-veen, presuming Sam pronounced it correctly. The man glances up from his phone, tonguetip pressed to the inside of his cheek as he pauses in whatever message he was sending. Then completes it with a swipe of his thumb. "That's right." He glances toward the barista, then back to Layla; his drink's not ready yet. "Sam's a friend of yours?" His words are drenched in the rougher burr of some sort of semitic language. Arabic, most like.

"Mmmm." Layla replies thoughtfully, "Perhaps he could be. We're working on it." She replies, tipping her coffee cup to the side, checking the emptiness of it before she gets to her feet. The cup is picked up and carried with her towards the counter, holding it up to indicate to the barista that she wants a refill. Then she offers a hand towards Sevin, "Layla Mostafa."

Sevin looks a little amused by the response he gets, though barely a glimmer of it reaches his lips and eyes - which remain focused carefully on the woman as she rises to get her refill. His phone is slid into his coat pocket, gloved hand extended to clasp hers firmly. Solid grip, but nothing overcompensating. "Sevin Khan." The contact's maintained just a heartbeat longer than is perhaps strictly polite, though it could easily be a cultural thing. "New in town?"

"Afraid that I am…" Layla agrees, returning the handshake without batting an eyelash at the too long grip. Then she crosses her arms over her chest, studying him for a few more moments before expanding upon her response, "I've recently moved from Denver…looking to expand my business into town." She reaches into one of her pockets to pull out a business card, holding it out towards him. On the front is just her name, and a phone number.

That's got to be some sort of a record for him, for the time between meeting a woman and getting her business card. And it's intimated, barely, in the fractional raise of his brow. His coffee is set down about then, his name mangled horribly, and he leans past Layla to retrieve it and snap on a lid. No cream, no sugar. Only then is her card accepted between index and middle finger with a bit of a scissors motion. "Your business," he repeats, voice low; eyes on the woman, then on the card. "And what business would that be?"

"Social Facilitation." Layla replies, pushing her cup towards the barista to get her refill, taking it back once there is coffee in it again, "I do a little bit of everything. Suggestions on where the best place to eat is, making certain that the right people get reservations, getting that perfect date for your big party…Anything that a person might find themself in the need of." She glances back towards her table, then at him, "You're welcome to join me if you'd like."

Sevin turns the card over once, and finds nothing on the back. His eyes drag slowly back to Layla's face, perusing her thoughtfully for a time. Intense, perhaps on the verge of inappropriately so, but it seems to be the way he operates. "I'm a bit busy for a social life, I'm afraid." The card, nonetheless, is slipped into his wallet. "But I'll take the offer of company for a few minutes." He sips his coffee and favours her with a small, briefly lingering smile.

"Are you?" Layla wonders as she moves towards her table, setting her coffee cup down onto it before she retakes her seat, "I've found those that are too busy for a social life are often the ones that call looking for a little help in the matter." She closes her laptop again, then folds her hands in her lap, smiling at him in some amusement, "But perhaps you're different then all the other men that call about our services."

Sevin's phone buzzes a couple more times, and he excuses himself quietly as he settles in opposite Layla, and slips it back out to fire off a quick message. Maybe he's different from the other men she knows. Or maybe he isn't. He might be a little older than some of her clientele though, and he shirks both eye contact and long sentences with aplomb. "So you're in the business of enhancing social lives too, then," he observes, perusing her face and mannerisms thoughtfully while keeping his hand settled loose around his coffee cup.

"I'm in the business to make money, by way of making certain that everyone is happy." Layla replies with a laugh, watching him for a little while, noting the cellphone and his returned message on it. She lifts her coffee, taking a sip from it before she easily shifts from English to Arabic, her accent putting her firmly in Egypt, "You know that some people would be highly annoyed by your answering your phone when they are talking to you. Consider it rude, even."

"I imagine you're in the majority there," Sevin returns mildly, on the heels of her claim about making money. Then she starts speaking to him in arabic, and his cup pauses a fraction of an inch away from his mouth. Ever so slight narrowing of his eyes, and he eventually takes his sip; steam curls from the spot where he drank, briefly sliding along a bearded cheek before evaporating. "Mm." And then he responds in kind, his voice taking to the rough melody of their native tongue like a tension in him has been suddenly eased: "It was a very important message, I'm afraid. It won't happen again, Ms. Mostafa." A glimmer of a smile, highly amused and more than a little bit intrigued.

"Was it?" Layla wonders, a dark brow lifting upwards a moment, that smile widening very briefly before she shakes her head, "I can't imagine that there is anything short of death that is important enough to rudely interupt conversation with someone." She lifts her cup of coffee up towards her mouth for another sip, adding with a teasing note, "Especially someone as good looking as me."

Sevin's amusement lingers - nay, grows - with that widening smile. It's subtler on him though; a glimmer of warmth at the very corners of his oddly pale eyes. The tiniest quirk of his lips, before he sips his coffee again and it's gone. "That's awfully dramatic," he confides in a low voice. "Though you're very lovely." And he might not even be joking about that. His phone buzzes again, and his brow tips up slightly as he watches her, but doesn't answer it. Yet.

"Is it?" Layla knows perfectly well that it is very dramatic, and it just seems to amuse her still. "Perhaps it is, but that doesn't change the fact that those with a weaker sense of self might think that you're more interested in your phone than a living, breathing person." While he shifts to English, she seems content to remain in Arabic. "You are new here, as well?"

"I don't have much interest in.. those with a weaker sense of self," replies the man carefully, switching back to arabic for the latter half of what he says. As if to echo Layla's words. He waits a beat before responding to the question; and when he does, it's again in his native tongue: "Less so each day, I suppose. I've been here a month or two now. It's a nice town." He gives almost nothing away; his eyes, his mannerisms are like a closed book. It's hard to say what he even means by 'nice'. "How are you liking it so far?"

Layla spreads her hands at the question, then drops them once more, continuing on as she has been, "It's small, but there are plenty of tourists that come through that might use a bulk of the services I offer. I'm certain that once my reputation gets out, then the oher services I offer will be more in demand by the right people." She smiles very faintly at it, but then shrugs her shoulders, "But I've been in Denver for a while before relocating here to expand, so it's just a smaller Colorado city, really. Much the same."

Sevin gives a quiet 'hm' as the tourist business is mentioned, but something else she says gains his attention. A lazy sip of coffee presages him easing back in his chair slightly, though his gaze remains on the woman opposite. "What other services?" A little shake of his head. "Never been to Denver." There's perhaps the faintest trace of brooklyn flavouring his accent, but it's so recently acquired that it's only stuck here and there in tiny fragments.

There is a laugh at the question, then she shakes her head, "I'm sure that if you think about what I've said long enough, you might come up with the answer to your question. I'm not in the habit of spelling out everything that I'm able to provide." She shrugs her shoulders, "I'm sure that you can understand that sometimes it's better to just let things like that go."

He simply watches her for a little while, and then chuckles. It's a low, warm sound. The time is briefly checked, and then with a noise in his throat that sounds like disappointment, he begins easing to his feet. Switching back to arabic once more, "I'm afraid I've got to get going. It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Mostafa. Tusbah ala khair."

"It was lovely to meet you, too." Layla replies, reaching for her laptop to re-open it, offering him a bit of a smile, "I hope whatever business you have finds you well." She reaches for her coffee then, lifting it in a faint salute, "Good night."

Sevin nods once, observes the woman a moment more, then turns and heads for the door. His phone is already out before he even makes it outside, expression thoughtful. Must really be something important.

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