<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">He was stubborn, she was stubborn, it wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads and Genevieve knew it wouldn’t be the last as long as they were around each other. The difference was that Nathan wasn’t around to be the buffer. He wasn’t there to offer a joke to diffuse the tension or plainly tell one of them to knock it off. But perhaps they did not require their dead loved one to end their arguing, for the moment Oliver’s rough hand met the curve of her cheek, Genevieve could feel her body loosen and the frustration begin to ebb. He hadn’t touched her much in the past, maybe a friendly hug or brush from general interactions. This felt different and with how Oliver leaned in closer while closing his eyes, Genevieve’s gaze streaked across his face. She took in the curve of his nose, the way his lashes pillowed against his cheek while he seemingly took the time to find the strength to deal with her obstinacy.<br/>
<br/>
When his eyes opened and met hers, his voice was quiet and his other hand reaching up to mimic the first. Genevieve could only focus upon Oliver then, her eyes staring into his while he explained the danger they were in, the type of people they were dealing with. She wanted none of it, had not asked to be drawn into the situation, but Gen said nothing of her complaints. Instead the only sign of the fear that was taking root inside her with the revelation of how much trouble they were in was the way her hands reached out for him. Her fingers curled at his sides, taking comfort in the warmth of his form, in the firm flesh she could easily feel beneath.<br/>
<br/>
She struggled to keep up with every word, but Gen knew she needed to follow his directions, that she was in over her head. At least, she was becoming complacent to Oliver’s gentle tones and steadfast logic until he told her she would not be getting involved any further. That ticked her tenacity once more, and her lips parted to defy, except Oliver surprised her by leaning down to her more. For a shocking moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Even more so was how disappointed she was when his lips instead met her brow. Would he be upset if she stepped closer? If she demanded he try again with his aim? Something about the way his hands pressed into her hair before they dropped back to his sides told her Oliver would not be adverse to her affections.<br/>
<br/>
But he turned away and Genevieve was left standing in confusion, frustration, and with her eyes on his retreating back. Why did it suddenly appeal to her, how his body moved beneath his shirt? How he had such a quiet confidence to him? <i>It’s because he saved you…it’s because you just survived a near-death experience…it’s because he’s Oliver. </i>She didn’t need to kid herself. With a small groan, she dragged a hand over her face, then pushed it back into the mass of curls surrounding her head. They were just as wild as she’d felt before Oliver’s hands had calmed her and Gen whisked them up into a bun atop her head, fingers deftly using the band she kept at her wrist. Several shorter tendrils escaped the bind, cheerfully bouncing around her face while she followed after him. She cast Dunkin a quick glance while he made himself at home on Oliver’s couch, her voice a grumble when she spoke to Oliver’s stupid appealing back, “I don’t think you can tell me not to get more involved when this could potentially lead us to Nathan’s killer. I deserve to know. I dedicated four years of my life to that man…” Four years that were possibly a lie.<br/>
<br/>
She hadn’t been in Oliver’s office much, so Genevieve entered with curious eyes and the temptation to snoop. There were more important matters at hand however, and she joined Oliver at his desk while he worked with the USB. Wanting to be able to see and not give him the chance to manipulate anything on the USB to protect her, Genevieve rounded the desk and pulled herself to sit upon it, her legs dangling off it just near his keyboard. After taking a moment to smooth her hand over her leggings so the spandex didn’t bunch at her waist with her movements, Gen leaned forward to look at the computer screen. The little icon popped up to announce the addition of the USB and Gen shot a sly hint of a smirk in Oliver’s direction before reaching out to click the icon before he could, a tiny win of a competition she’d made up on the fly.<br/>
<br/>
Folders were all that showed up first, ruining the way Gen had imagined the USB would be. She’d expected pictures, wild software, a self-destruct notice, something more extravagant. Then she read the folder names: <i>Exits, Potentials, Clients, My Women, Purchases &amp; Funds.</i> “I thought you said he was a spy,” Genevieve muttered, hand quick to go to the one labeled <i>My Women.</i> She took issue with that folder, specifically with one letter, and double clicked it right away. Gen regretted it instantly, as dozens of pictures of naked women in various positions and in various places filled the screen. Pale women, light hair, pale eyes. So vastly different from the woman staring at the pictures in a mixture of confusion and fury. “What the fuck,” Gen announced, her jaw clamping shut immediately after. She supposed they could be pictures from before her time, and before Oliver could voice that for her, she right clicked one and brought up the date. Two years earlier.<br/>
<br/>
“Fucking jerk,” Gen muttered, hopping off the desk so she could pay more attention to the screen, her forearms resting on the desktop. “What’s an Exit?” She asked while going back to the main screen so she could pretend she hadn’t just discovered her boyfriend’s self-created nudes collection. Her eyes settled on the folders and Gen hummed to herself, “Better yet, what’s a Potential? What is all this?” To find out, she glanced in Oliver’s direction, then clicked to bring up the folder labeled <i>Potentials.</i> There were five pictures in that one, but the first two were of the only people occupying that room.</span>