"Arthur! Hi. Hey, you haven't called me." Jones pouted.

"Ah!" Arthur felt the flush reach his cheeks and burn. Thank heavens for the dimness of the restaurant. "The last two days have been busy, and I haven't had a chance to--"

Portia's eyes were wide and her expression gleeful. Arthur's heart sank. "Arthur! You had a date and you didn't call him afterwards?"

"Haha! I knew it!" Jones said, flashing a brilliant grin at Portia.

"No, he's--" Arthur started, but Portia continued.

"No wonder you canceled on me. And you didn't even tell me about it, you jerk."

"-- a business associate," Arthur managed.

"He's my divorce lawyer," Jones said, damning his own client confidentiality.

"Portia, this is Mr. Alfred--"

But Portia didn't miss much, conversationally, and she was extremely nosy. "What did you know?" she asked Jones.

"My gaydar is never wrong," Jones answered, closing his lips so that his grin was even more smug.

"--Jones," Arthur said, loudly. "And Mr. Jones, this is my--"

"Not your girlfriend, obviously," Jones said.

"Nope," Portia said, staring at Jones with actual stars in her eyes, or maybe those were merely the reflections of the restaurant's candlelight.

"Friend," Arthur ground out. "Portia Galati."

"Nice to meet you."

"Same." They shook hands. Jones still beamed down at Portia. She did look very attractive this evening. And was Jones gaping into her cleavage? Whatever the case, they managed to tear their gazes from each other to both look at Arthur.

"So did you come to check out my place?" Jones said. He winked at Arthur; it was apparently a habit. It was an overly familiar one, but for some reason, it warmed Arthur's belly rather than his ire. Jones was everything Arthur was not used to. "How do you like it?"

"Very nice," Arthur said.

"Good wine. I can't wait to try the Alaskan salmon," Portia said, leaning her chin on her hand. It made her cleavage that much more enticing. To someone who found those sorts of things enticing, anyway. As Jones very well might.

Arthur wasn't particularly secretive about his own sexuality, nor ashamed of it. He was out. But now Jones knew something personal about him that Arthur hadn't told him. Arthur had planned to keep things on the strictest level of professionalism.

Already Jones was making that impossible, and Arthur had represented him for only two days. If only Arthur weren't attracted to him.

And there, he'd admitted it for what it was. Now he'd just have to make it a personal challenge to never let it show. Personal challenges were almost as engrossing as professional ones.

"The salmon's awesome." Jones waved a hand around the restaurant. "I came here to try and catch Mariel, but she's not working tonight. I suppose I ought to give up. As my lawyer, do you think that's what I should do? If she doesn't want to contact me?"

"We can discuss it. Soon," Arthur suggested. Even if Jones didn't care about airing his own private business, Arthur was going to. It was professional pride. He tried to hint that at Jones without revealing too much information to everyone around them. "I'd like to schedule a meeting with H.F., if you are available to join us."

"Frannie! Of course. How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow!" Arthur stared. Well, he was nearly ready, though he’d hoped to have the weekend to prepare for a meeting the first of the week. Jones clearly expected him to jump. "We'll have to see if everyone's schedule agrees--"

"I make my own schedule. And Frannie’ll make time for me." Insinuating that Arthur should, as well? “Tomorrow’s good, never fear."

It seemed Jones's chest swelled as he stood there. Did he think he was a superhero? The President? He baffled Arthur, truly.