Oliver wasn't running late, at least not at first, but the taxi he'd taken got stuck behind unexpected traffic. What should've been a minor fender-bender at an intersection created gridlock for nearly five blocks. Realizing that he could make it their quicker on foot, he paid the driver hastily and got out, jogging the rest of the way.

He was pink-cheeked and out of breath as he burst in through the door, unwinding his scarf as he shouldered his way towards the table she'd claimed for them.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the booth across from her. "Sorry, traffic was beast. How are you?"