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"I can't tonight," she says immediately.

"I need to deal with the schedule change and make arrangements."

"All right."

She seems almost surprised that I don't push. Then I add,

"Tomorrow."

Her eyes narrow.

"Ross."

"Or the day after."

She exhales.

"If this is about the Whitcombe project, I can make time during the day.”

"It isn't about the Whitcombe project.”

She goes still. I hold her gaze.

"I'm asking you to dinner."

The silence stretches between us. Blaire looks away first.

"I don't know."

"That's not a no."

"It's also not a yes."

"Fair."

She picks up her bag.

"I'll think about it."

I nod.

"That works."

She starts toward the door.

"Blaire."

She turns back.

"I'll ask again," I say.

Her expression is somewhere between irritation and disbelief.

"I assumed you would."

"I'll be seeing you over the next several days anyway."

"That sounds ominous."