Lavinia didn’t take her eyes off of the man as she shut the door.
“Liv.”
Ardashir smiled, a rolled cigarette in his mouth. “I hope it was alright to smoke in here.”
Lavinia knew he would have done it regardless of her answer. “Of course,” she buried all of the swirling feelings of fear, trepidation, and exhaustion that had crept into her over the course of the last couple of weeks, “all I ask is that you use an ashtray.”
She toed the line of neutrality as she crossed to a small cabinet and, ensuring that she could keep him in her field of vision, produced a crystal ashtray that she cleaned and kept for use in situations like this.
“Of course.” He took the ashtray and offered her a cigarette from a metal case. She took it, but when he tried to light it for her, she retreated.
“I hope things are well with you,” she held her hand open for the lighter, which he produced, “I get to see so little of your own estate.”