Gwen saw Eli and her face lit up in delight. Just for a moment, she looked utterly overwhelmed with pleasure at the sight of him. She didn't see Martin and, should anyone know except her, Gwen didn't see anyone except Elijah. Of course, that was not something which she'd admit to anyone ever, not even herself, yet it didn't change the truth of it.  So, she made her way over to where Eli was and she couldn't have hid the grin on her face, even if she'd wanted to.  As she walked towards him, Gwen considered that she needed to keep her cool, to not lose her focus and to remember that they were meeting as business partners.<br/><br/>She'd have done well at it, too, if she hadn't seen the helmet on the table where he was waiting for her and Gwen's nerves, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, disappeared as she realised what she was looking at. "Hey!", Gwen said with a grin and then she sat down as he gestured for her to do so. "That's your Aprilia Tuono out there?" She looked at him with eyes which shone with enthusiasm. "And you sit here with a Randy Mamola replica? I love him, he's been really involved with<u> Riders for Health</u>, too. I've volunteered with them for years, done a few trips to Africa, too." She shook her head. "When I get some money, I'm getting myself a Harley-Davidson, but not a Sportster, I've got my eyes on an Iron 1200.  Or a Triumph Bonneville Speed Twin." Shrugging and gesturing to the bag with all her papers in it, Gwen's expression suddenly shifted to mischievous. "Or, if we're super-successful? I'll go with both."<br/><br/>She ordered herself a latte, knowing full well that they were both aware she did that because it was the cheapest item on the menu, but Gwen wondered if Eli realised that, no matter how much money she had, she'd always look at the price. This was coffee, after all, and she could make it perfectly well at home.  Still, he probably didn't need to consider it because it wasn't relevant to him. So, she thanked the server and then turned back to him. "I'd love to ask you if you race, chat with you about bikes. But I'm not here to waste your time. I have a ... well, a whole bunch of things."<br/><br/>Gwen was taking this seriously, it seemed, and so she handed him a sheaf of papers, bound together. There were dividing tabs separating out four distinct sections, which she gestured to and explained, her manicured fingernails tapped each tab as she spoke. "I've identified two approaches," she said quietly. "One where we offer only specific items, determined by ourselves. The other, where we offer bespoke items, made to order so that we can provide items for schools or, I've been researching, there's a bigger market for bespoke wedding stationery. So, I'm thinking we might want to go that way. Anyhow, I'm getting ahead." She pointed then to the first tab. "This is the non-bespoke version," then to the third tab. "This is the bespoke one. For both of them, I've identified a small and slow approach which requires a lower investment, or a hard and heavy approach, which has a higher investment."<br/><br/>Suddenly, as though she realised what it was that she was doing (because that was exactly right) Gwen pushed the papers over to him, then clasped her hands together. "Hello, Eli," she said softly. "I feel awkward, because you saw me when I was vulnerable and I'm worried that your opinion of me has lessened because of that. So, I'm nervous and talking more than usual. How are you? How's your beautiful daughter?"