Enter, stage right. He was sure that was her. He had seen a few women on their own head up the terrace, but she was something different. She was a little late, but wasn't that fashionable? Shouldn't you give that right to any woman, after all he should be a gentleman. The dark hair was collected in that bun, but it showed promise of long locks, the loose ends still framing her face in a pretty way. Pretty face too, eyes to drown in. Elegant neck, some skin showing, dressed in a comfortable style. He had no inkling of what to expect. Some sex bomb with a bit of a marginal attitude. A complete bitch. A classy lady. He had not been prepared. But something clicked when he saw her.<br/><br/>A sway of her hips. Some leg showing too. And the focus on her made him forget... that he had placed his helmet at his feet. Because people had been looking at him strangely, a man with a helmet positioned on the middle of the table like it was an ornament to worship. Also, he had decided after sitting there for a moment she'd easily spot the helmet, even in its new position. Boy was he wrong. But as he studied her from behind his Rayben glasses he had not remembered that signal they had agreed upon through the friends. He didn't even have her contact data. He had wondered if she would even show up. Was this her? It should be. That was in the forefront of his mind. It couldn't be anyone el... Woah! Had he said that out loud? As he jumped at her.<br/><br/>As she tripped over it, she grabbed onto the table and he half jumped up to catch her. Hands straight out towards her. A perfect reflex, he was responding perhaps just a split second before she started keeling over. Together they were successful. One of his hands ended upon her hip. The other on her arm that was latched onto the table. Both hands holding her tightly so her downward momentum was ended.<br/><br/>She mumbled her "Oh man". He just said "Yes..." with a grin as he helped her straighten up. Those hands did not linger afterwards. There was a temptation to dust her off a little, but as she had not fallen onto the ground, there was no use to. And since he stood there and she was straightened, she didn't need his support either. But... did she? Something clicked. Again. The hands did not linger. Or did they? Perhaps it was just a bit too long, but he made sure she was ok. "Oh don't be...". As she told him she was sorry.<br/><br/>He gestured to the chair as she pointed at it and didn't even wait for his answer. He settled in his own seat. Watching her with a slightly amused smile playing on his lips. His hand came up to give her shoulder a gentle encouraging squeeze. His eyes on her with a look of sympathy. He liked her face. It was pretty, as noticed before, but it was also open and her eyes were bright. Her demeanor, her clothes, showed a woman who seemed relaxed and happy. Her voice somewhat sultry, somewhat bubbly. A clear sound in the air. She explained that she had been looking too hard, he gave a gentle nod as she was getting up.<br/><br/>"I guess, I should have kept my helmet on the table..." he spoke to her with a knowing look in his eyes. He placed that black thing on the tabletop again. He repeated his earlier gesture at the chair she had just vacated. "Perhaps sit down again?"  That hand extended to her then for her to shake. "Hi... I'm Ben." A quick jab of the index finger afterwards at the helmet. "That wasn't done on purpose. It is who I should be sorry... please let me buy you a drink..."