A/N: So this idea of a woman testing her dates out on the waitress kept popping up in my head, all last week, and only now did I find the time to write a story on it. Little did I know how far this story would change from that original prompt. I didn't think, I just let the characters do their own thing, and the product is this. I hope you enjoy this one-shot, set independently from my Clear Skies story, although it is in the same universe and timeframe.

"So, you never told me what you do. What's the big secret?"

She sighed.

"I'm a financial analyst with Stone and Downing."

It was hardly noticeable, and lesser people might have missed it entirely, but she saw. This was not her first time after all.

"And what exactly is it that you do, Miss Stone and Downing?"

Again, she saw the look. That insatiable thirst for prestige and wealth. The very mention of Stone & Downing changed the path of their interaction. No longer was it about sports and hobbies. No, right now it was all about the money. The endless pursuit of the young for riches. It was something she unwillingly became accustomed to.

Abigail explained only the bare minimum, her words clear and precise like reading off a well rehearsed script, her previously arched back slumped backward against the cushion of the chair. It was almost unbearable to her, that she would have so many girls, and boys, pursuing her with nothing but greed on their minds. Do they have no tact? She was still a human being, Abigail pondered, yet the people she saw treated her like royalty. Stone & Downing, it all came to that name. A name that might as well have been branded onto her forehead, as nothing else would catch attention once that name got out. As one of the oldest investment firms alive, Stone & Downing enjoyed its place on the pinnacle of the financial world. Every year, billions of young and bright students vied for the chance to interview with the firm, and every year, billions would be rejected with not even a courtesy message. For the lucky dozen or so that received that beige envelope, which Abigail thought grotesque, welcoming them into the Stone & Downing family, it would be the best day of their lives. Abigail laughed as she remembered being suckered into the excitement, although it was placed more on receiving an offer than it was on where that offer came from. Now look at her, a prim and proper 24 year old on a date with someone she hardly knew.

"...and, you know, it all came to me."

This should be interesting, Abigail thought as she caught the end of a rather long-winded explanation on what her date did. An art critic, was it? She arched her eyebrows as she gave her date the cue to go on.

"The newer artists these days have some decent ideas, thank god by the way, or else I might just have to kill myself from so much incompetence, but they are hardly experts on the English language. They butcher their summaries. How could they be out there exposing themselves if they can't even explain their art?" Her date smirked as she continued on her diatribe of naive young artists, thinking herself so spectacular for inventing some new form of social network to consolidate their soporific ideas into a single consciousness. Abigail missed the details, as she discovered that she could not care less about whatever it was that her date was rattling on about. Instead, her eyes wandered lazily around the restaurant, her gaze caught by the decorations or the new dishes she had not yet tasted. A young waitress busied about, tucking a pen behind her ear as she took empty plates back into the kitchen. Abigail caught her glance as she looked towards their table and they both gave a small smile before returning to their respective chores. Abigail chuckled at the thought of a date being a chore, and she thought of just how many chores she had to go through. Too many to count. Her date missed out on the joke.

The waitress returned through the revolving doors with two plates of freshly seasoned pasta dishes and reached their table, carefully giving both women their utensils before setting the plates down. She smiled at both of them, giving Abigail a slight wink, then began walking away before a hand stopped her.

"Um, excuse me, I believe I ordered the cheese ravioli," the date started, her eyes giving the waitress a scolding look, "This is not it." Her right arm tugged the waitress' shirt while her left hand pointed at the plate in front of her.

"I am so sorry, miss, let me fix that for you." And she picked up the plate, taking extra care to allow a dab of sauce to drip onto that side of the table. The date arched her brows. "Woops, I'm such a clutz." She took her napkin out and cleared the stain. As she left their table, a smile plastered on her face, she heard a scoff.

"Are you kidding me?" The date said irritably to Abigail, her eyes rolling at the retreating waitress behind her before turning back. Abigail remained mute as she continued. "I mean, how hard is it to get the right order in? She has the simplest job in the worlds and can't even get that right, what a joke. And now we have to wait longer, great." It was then that Abigail stood up, her elegant form making very little sound as she walked towards her date. A surprised set of eyes landed on her chest before lifting up to her face.

"Bathroom?"

"Actually," Abigail replied, her stare sinking into the sitting woman, "you'll be the one waiting a little bit longer. I have somewhere to be."

An ugly frown shown on her date's face as her gaped slightly.

"You're leaving? Now?"

"Yes, so thank you for your company." She dropped enough bills to pay for both meals, then turned to walk towards the exit. She was stopped by a grip on her wrist.

"What do you mean? Will you call? We barely got to know each other." The date pleaded silently, her desperation unbecoming her previous catty self.

Abigail placed her free hand onto the vice grip still on her wrist, rubbing the offending hand slightly before yanking it off her arm. "Really?" she smirked, "I got to know you pretty well. Good night." Abigail had a feeling this was how it would go down. Once again, like her many outings with strangers, this was not new. A disturbing sense of familiarity ran through her as she exited the restaurant, she took a deep breath, glad to be free from her chore, and headed towards the parking garage. Whose idea was it to schedule this blind date. Running through her contact list, she happened upon the guilty person and dialed the number. Time to chew someone out, again.

She was early. Earlier than usual, and the waitress noticed.

"You're here early." She stated matter-of-factly, filling up the empty glass with iced water. Abigail returned the smile given to her and closed her notebook.

"I didn't know you kept tabs on me," she said, her hands rested beneath her chin as she gave her a wink. She was a natural flirt. The waitress sat down on the opposite side of the booth and she ignored a waiter's annoyed glare as he walked pass. He whispered near her ear, quiet enough to be unintelligible to Abigail, and trotted off towards the kitchen. Abigail gave her a questioning glance.

"He thought I was shirking my duties."

"And are you?"

"Finished them in record time, as usual." She replied, looking bored as she checked her glistening nails. "Short work for a Hanson after all." A slight peek at Abigail betrayed her act, and she let out a chuckle as her friend across from her gave a disapproving stare. Her 'mother' stare as she called it.

"Oh, don't remind me. Nothing's too difficult for the great Hanson dynasty. Hanson family this and that." She waved her hands around, showing off imaginary accolades. She giggled as a washcloth hit her head. Her nose gave a wrinkle as she said, "I hope this is clean," before throwing it back. As the washcloth disappeared behind the pockets of the black waist-apron tied around her friend, Abigail jumped into her shoulder bag.

"I almost forgot, here you go. The latest journal." And she slid the latest edition of the New England Journal of Medicine across. The bound volume held 300 pages of discourse between the greatest medical minds of the Confederation. Topics ranged from the newest plague discovered on a recently terraformed world to the intrigues of psychotherapy. This journal, backed by over a thousand years of history, was held to the highest esteem by the scientific community for its groundbreaking articles in the field of medicine. Unfortunately, circulation ran in elite circles only, and the majority of the articles in this print, especially the lab results of experimental work, had yet to be disclosed to even the top brass of medical institutions. Which was why, as the younger girl picked up the journal, her eyes bulged forward slightly.

"I told you, you shouldn't go to this much trouble for me." She said unabashedly, although her eyes scanned the exterior cover in awe. She nearly sputtered when she saw the date. "This came out yesterday!"

"Sarah, I promise you, this is no trouble at all. Plus, wouldn't this be good for your education?"

"I guess," Sarah replied hesitantly, mulling it over internally. "Thanks, Miss Swanson." A flush spread through her cheeks as she picked up the journal, daring it to explode at any minute because of her unworthy touch.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Abigail?"

Sarah looked at her through electric blue eyes, her blond ponytail whipped off her shoulder. "Abigail, Abigail, Abigail," she repeated, testing the name, "that's too weird. Like calling my mom Valentine." She shuddered, exaggerating with her shoulders. Abigail laughed.

"I hope I don't look 50 at least." She said, her grey eyes glistening with delight.

"No, you look perfect." Sarah noted briefly.

Surprise shone on both faces at her candid remark. Sarah eyed her friend with the sort of innocence missed by Abigail greatly, as if there had been a long time since she had someone like her to talk to.

"I – uh, you look good, I mean." Sarah managed to cough out, averting Abigail's gaze. A dawning expression fell on Abigail. She had never noticed before, but for the first time since they met, Abigail drew her eyes over the younger girl's sharp cheekbones and softened jaw. Her slightly chapped lips covered with lip gloss could entice any patron of the restaurant, which was of course what Sarah was going for, larger tips and all. The split collar of her dress shirt was enough to hint at the good stuff underneath, yet classy enough to go along with the rich decor. The blush complemented her features brilliantly. She could not imagine how she missed the beautiful girl before her.

For a moment, a dim lull graced their presence. Abigail's confused expression as she regarded her friend made Sarah fidget nervously, and she wracked her brain for anything to restart the conversation. Thankfully, Abigail broke from her stupor just as she was about to say something stupid.

"Thank you, Sarah," Abigail said gratefully as she looked down at her red cardigan and black pants. She knew how to dress to please, and this was from her first date collection. It was enough to hold her date's attention without giving off any further ideas. She arched her back slightly and held herself straighter than she normally would. For some reason, whether it was to stick her chest out, or whether it was to seem just an inch taller, she wanted to look good, for Sarah, at that moment.

"You have a date then?" Her target said quietly, looking at the urban landscape outside. Abigail had the sinking feeling that she did that on purpose.

"Yes." She wanted to continue. Maybe say something outlandish like, if Sarah wanted to, cancel the date and invite her to a girl's night out. They only had one once, when Sarah was feeling particularly down. That night really solidified their friendship, even if they were 5 years apart. Abigail enjoyed their time together, as they ate ice cream on her couch at home, watching sappy old movies, and replacing scenes with their own dialogue. That was the first in a long time that she was able to let her hair down and just have fun. In fact, with Sarah, Abigail enjoyed many aspects of her life that she had, for some odd reason, neglected.

"So, Operation Spillapalooza again?" Sarah grinned, rubbing her hands together. It was hard not to laugh at the childish antics of Sarah, and this was one of those times Abigail couldn't help but laugh at. Yet, she now found the action incredibly charming. Sarah's smile shown dazzling white teeth and her loose ponytail on her shoulder created the perfect picture of energetic youth. It was almost too much that Sarah found such childish delight in tormenting her dates. Come to think of it, Sarah took to the role of incompetence waitress with a little too much gusto, almost like she enjoyed ruining the dates. Maybe Abigail was thinking too much of this, but she swore that whenever she came to this restaurant with a date, Sarah would be a little more subdued and tense during the dates that went well, and be a little more relaxed when the dates were ruined. Unfortunately, this date was not one of those times.

"Sorry to disappoint, Sarah, but I actually know this woman this time." Never again would she be set up. "Come to think of it, you guys have a lot in common. She played varsity tennis in high school and diving. She loves old Earth classics. Lets see, she told me she loves Anne of Green Gables and Little Women. Oh, and she has your morbid fascination for Poe. You'll probably really like her!"

"Great." So that's a no, Abigail guessed. There it was again, the quiet Sarah. Remembering something else, she dove back into her bag and brought out an envelope. "Here you go." She said, handing it to Sarah.

"What's this?"

"It's your reward." Abigail grinned, gesturing for her friend to take it.

"Reward for?" Was Sarah being intentionally obtuse?

"For helping me with my little problems." Once again, Abigail inched the envelope forward.

"I don't want it." What.

"I know for a fact that you lost a lot of tip money from my little escapades. This is for you, what should be yours anyway." Now Abigail was becoming slightly frustrated. Sarah looked at her with a blank expression. "Sarah, what's up?"

Sarah took a minute to think through her thoughts, which seemed to be many judging from the scrunched look on her face. "I don't want to enable you, OK?"

"Enable me?" Abigail was slightly lost, but something tugged at the back of her mind, giving her the impression that she knew all along what was going on.

"Look, OK, I just," Sarah stuttered, looking for the right words, "I don't want to see you whore yourself out."

"Whore myself out?" She spoke each word deliberately, wondering how these three words fit into her lifestyle at all. "If you're talking about my dates, it's none of your business. And I don't whore myself out."

"Of course it's my business!" Sarah said, urgency and a hint of anger on her tone. "I'm the only one playing goalkeeper to your girls." Sarah took a deep breath. "You think I want to see those, those sluts touching you? It makes me sick. They have their toes running up and down your leg, you don't think I see that stuff?" Abigail blushed. She understood a little more of why Sarah was acting out now. She stood up, the envelope still gripped tightly in her hand, and walked to Sarah, kneeling down by her side.

"You're a good friend, Sarah," she said, cupping Sarah's face with her free hand, "but sometimes, you just have to let adults find themselves." Sarah breathed heavily onto Abigail's face, noses almost touching. The faint smell of peach lotion invaded Sarah's senses.

"They don't deserve you, Miss – Abigail," Sarah whispered, staring intensely at her friend, "I don't know why you keep giving them the chance." She held up her hand and cupped Abigail's free one, the touch surprisingly soothing to both of them. Abigail found it once again incredibly charming that Sarah felt she deserved more.

Abigail smiled softly and she brushed a stray lock of brown hair from her eyes, blinking rapidly before looking back to Sarah. "Everyone deserves a chance, Sarah." The earnest expression on Abigail's face made Sarah's brows raise an inch.

"Right. But you always choose the wrong kind of people. They only want your money."

"And you know this how?" Sometimes Abigail could be surprised just how intuitive Sarah was.

Sarah gave her iconic scoff, "It's obvious." Not to anyone else Abigail knew, that was for sure.

"But don't you think it's oddly poetic that way? Them giving me a chance to share with them my wealth, and me giving them a chance to change?" Oddly stupid as well. Sarah agreed.

"That's ridiculous. You guys are after different things before getting together, that'll lead to nowhere good." Oddly insightful of Sarah, Abigail thought. "Just pick better next time."

"Next time?" Abigail was amused at how bossy her friend could become. "What about tonight's date. You don't think I can keep her?"

"That's not what I meant," huffed out Sarah, "You deserve someone who chooses you for who you are, not what you do. You're not just some get rich quick fix, that's not right." Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, kissing their cupped hands. "I've seen you so happy before, not like you are when you're in the office or in the restaurant. You can make people fall madly in love with you just by becoming yourself." Abigail blinked.

"You're the only one who has seen me like that." Sarah gulped.

A cough interrupted their moment together, and the girls reluctantly pulled away, both of them suddenly very self-conscious. Sarah glance around and found the source of their interruption. It was the guy who whispered to her earlier.

"What!" Sarah growled. Abigail fought to keep her blush under control as she stood close to her friend. She wondered what Sarah would have told her had they not been interrupted.

The guy was not fazed one bit, and barked, "don't take that tone with me, young lady, one of our waitresses called in sick, so we have to pick up her duties for the day." Sarah groaned."Yea, tell me about it. Anyway, I've got you trimming peas, you cool?"

"Whatever." As Sarah turned to Abigail to bid her goodbye, she found herself instead looking past her at an excited red head bouncing her way towards them. Abigail turned around at the commotion and realized who it was. It was her date for the evening. No part of her body wanted to be near the couple, not after the moment Abigail and her had together. It was of course, Abigail's brilliant idea to introduce her date to her friend. What irked Sarah the most was that they were so close together. They talked effortlessly, like what Sarah and Abigail did, and they had a stream of endless laughter. Sarah watched as she was busy doing the absent waitress' chores. Sarah knew instantly though, whether it was through plain jealousy or not, that this girl did not deserve Abigail.

"So, what do you do for a living?"

What is this, a cruel repeat, thought Abigail. She turned on the voice recorder in her head, and produced a pitch perfect version of the well-rehearsed script she had memorized so long ago. Her time with the red-head a month ago sadly did not last. The beginning was fantastic, and they had a great time together, but as their relationship went long, it became clear that it wasn't the red-head Abigail was dating. It was someone else, who she discovered she would rather date instead. This caused problems, and problems it did, when one night they were in bed together and Abigail called out the wrong name. Just like that, the relationship ended. While the red-head was prissy for the first week after the breakup, she turned around in the end and said that she would rather return to being friends. She also felt that Abigail had chip on her shoulder during their time together, like she was holding out for something. One good thing this breakup effected was Sarah's mood, which went from sour and subdued, to positively radiant.

Abigail made a deal with herself. This would be the last date she would go on. She had to have time to sift through her feelings. It was not until the last weeks of her relationship with the delightful red-head that she realized how much she wanted Sarah. It was also not until the last weeks of her relationship that she realized exactly what Sarah meant that time at the restaurant. It was so obvious to her that she could not believe she had left it alone. Sarah did not help matters along, as she gave Abigail the cold shoulder, or as much as she could without it seeming blatant. Was it revenge that fueled Sarah's behavior, Abigail thought. She did seem an absolute two-timing idiot that time. Sarah had practically spilled her love for her, and she had to go introduce her date to her. She groaned.

"You OK?" Her date looked anxious. Abigail nodded her head.

At least this date allowed the two friends to return once again to their beloved activities, ganging up on Abigail's date. Sarah sounded enthusiastic, saying she had wanted to do another one for a while, which perplexed Abigail. She thought Sarah would give her a resounding no since their talk last month. Sarah, of course, blew it off like no big deal. Which was fine with Abigail, as she would be professing her feelings for Sarah after she broke the date off anyway. At least this way, while they were both happy after their successful operation, they could start their relationship off on the right track.

"Excuse me, Miss Swanson?"

The maitre d' had walked up to the chatting couple sitting in the booth. He had with him a silver platter with a folded note on top. Abigail was confused.

"Yes, that's me."

"I was told to deliver this note to you, miss, if you please." And he leaned forward with the platter in hand and indicated for her to take it. As she did, he retreated back into the crowded restaurant.

Miss me yet?

That was all the note said. "What on earth?" Her date asked, as she picked up the note from the slack hands of Abigail. "You don't have any creepy stalkers, do you?" She joked. There were some. Still slightly troubled by the note, they both decided it was some bad prank one of her coworkers pulled on her. Who else would it be? The second note came not long after, as a waitress came up to them, cutting the date off in mid-sentence, to inquire whether this table sat a "delectable Miss Swanson?" As no one had ever called her delectable before, she was wary to respond, but indicated with her head that she was the recipient. Then, the waitress with a flourish conjured a wine bottle hidden behind her and filled up the empty wine glasses on the table with a 300 year old Merlot, then deposited the note on top of Abigail's wine glass. This was certainly an enigma. Before her date reached the note, she plucked it from the glass and took a peak at it.

This is your favorite?

Favorite what, Abigail began to ask, before she realized that indeed, the Merlot was actually her favorite wine. However, no one knew that. While she did keep a bottle of Merlot in her house at all times, only she could have known that. Who else could have had access to her house, or to her wine cupboard. That little bit was very troubling. The date was very much derailed at that point, as Abigail did not allow her date to read the second note. Both women were slightly put off, her date more so at Abigail's rude behavior than at what she thought were still pranks pulled on her by one of her coworkers. As she wondered who would spend so much for only a prank, sipping her delectable Merlot, her date attempted to converse with her about boring everyday events. Simple answers came out of Abigail as she did not feel like talking at all. While this was going on, the ambient music for the restaurant died down to nobody's notice. Only when a little static went out, then some tapping on what sounded like a mic came on, did people take notice. A couple beside the booth muttered something about bad stereo equipment at this day and age before a clear voice through the speakers said:

For Miss Swanson

And a song came on. An old song that sounded familiar to Abigail Swanson. Then she realized that this song played in one of the sappy old movies that she loved to watch. The song was sung by a beautiful french woman who sung of lost love followed by renewed hope. She always cried at this part, as this was when the couple in the movie spent a frantic hour searching for each other, sometimes missing each other by seconds, before finally resigning the fact that they would never see each other again. A sad bittersweet tale that followed the lovelorn couple until their middle years when they miraculously happened upon the same flowershop, in the middle of downtown Old Paris. Like she said, Abigail loved sappy old movies. So who exactly would know this little trivia of her's ? She had a sneaking suspicion, but wouldn't let her hopes get the best of her. Her date was not amused. She could not comprehend why someone who go through this much trouble to prank Abigail. Worse yet, the look on Abigail's face was something she wished herself to put on her, and not some mystery person. Try as she might, she could not lure Abigail into a prolonged discussion about anything. The distraction was too great. A waitress different from the first interrupted her wandering thoughts and asked, in front of an irritable date and Abigail, whether she would find "the real Miss Swanson" here. Without a second thought Abigail, already comforted by the song and Merlot, indicated that she was indeed the real deal. The waitress smiled and handed her a flower pot with a shocking violet common mallow flower. And shock was right as this was the very flower used in the film to express the couple's undying connection over the years. How many people did Abigail know that watched the movie, and out of those people, how many knew that the common mallow was her favorite flower, and out of those people, how many knew that she preferred a darker shade of mauve to that of the ordinary common mallow found in the wild?

Thank you for showing me who you are

Said the note attached to the flower. This was all too much for Abigail, as silent tears formed in her grey eyes. She looked around everywhere, wishing very much to see a glimpse of the girl that has gone to so much trouble to bring her home into this restaurant. Her date was beside herself with worry, as no one who could make Abigail cry could ever be good for her, she thought. As she was attempting to console Abigail, who just brushed her off with a chuckle, another waitress appeared before them, and Abigail braced herself for another round of sweet nothings said in Sarah's own odd way, and was quite surprised when the waitress placed two dishes onto the table. Neither of them ordered this, and Abigail did not think the restaurant even carried this kind of dish. The dish, while far from her favorite, was the one she and Sarah attempted to cook together during their girl's night. The one that night was an unmitigated disaster, but it mattered not when the girls had so much fun attempting it. The dish in front of her was made with a chef's hand, looking like an exact replica of the one in the cook book in her home.

"Excuse me," her date said, breaking her out of her reverie, "we didn't order this." The waitress just continued into the crowd, ignoring all calls of her to come back. Her date was definitely a degree past mild irritation.

Already expecting something of the sort, Abigail was not surprised to find the maitre d' making his way towards them again.

"Where is she?" Abigail asked, almost pleadingly, for some direction. The maitre d' laughed his hearty laugh and told her to worry not. As he said this, he whispered into her date's ear, and she stood up immediately, excusing herself as she had a call to make. The maitre d' gave Abigail a knowing wink then sauntered off into crowd. Wondering what that was about, and a little put off that nothing was given to her, Abigail sat silently on her side of the booth, once again sipping her Merlot while listening to the voice of a long gone angel. The flower sat in the middle between the two untouched dishes. As she was humming along with the song, she felt a hand brush her shoulder and immediately turned around to find the best present of all.

Sarah stood there, looking amused at the dried tears on Abigail's cheeks, and used her hands to wipe them clean. She wore an elegant dark blue dress, the bottom cut half a length down her thighs. The top of the dress was covered in loose, sky blue fabric, while her body was wrapped neatly like a turban behind the deep blue fabric. The better surprise was Sarah's hair, which she had curled at the bottom and let fall past her shoulders, grazing her chest. Her dress defined classy, yet teased Abigail on the good stuff. Her momentary silenced broke as Sarah moved to sit where the date sat before, opposite Abigail.

"I wonder where she went." Sarah said with a wink. A knowing look crossed Abigail's impression, and she laughed.

"You had everything figured out, didn't you?" She was impressed, and a little testy for this to be over so she could whisper her sweet nothings to Sarah, in her own way. "This is incredible."

"I only did what I had to do to make me deserve you, Abigail." A tear formed in her eye as she heard this.

"Don't cry." Sarah whispered, sitting forward slightly to wipe the tear away.

"The food, the flower, the music, the wine," Abigail listed, between tears of joy, "I can't believe you went to this much trouble for me."

Sarah moved their plates aside and reached across to hold Abigail's hands in hers. "This was no trouble, not for you, Abigail." She pulled her hands back after placing a square box into Abigail's hands. The way her eyes opened spoke volumes.

"I – Is this a proposal? What is this, Sarah?" Abigail could not have foreseen this. Sarah rolled her eyes, her darkened eyelashes following the movement, making Abigail hot. She had never seen Sarah quite like this before.

"Just open the damned box, Abigail." Sarah said in her own loving manner. This was still her Sarah behind all that glamor. As she lifted open the box, a rolled up parchment was stored in the socket where the ring would be.

You can make people fall madly in love with you just by showing your true self.

Abigail remembered what Sarah had said that day a month ago. "Is this true, are you madly in love with me?"

"Terribly so." Sarah replied, her solemn smile made Abigail's heart skip a beat. She had been in love with her all those months and she made her go through with the failed dates. She felt terrible.

"If I had known," Abigail started, but was stopped by a finger to her lips. Sarah knew what she had to say, that she was sorry to have asked her to sabotage her dates, which led to her seeing Abigail with countless other women. It did hurt, seeing them touch her the way Sarah wanted to, but:

"When you asked me to interrupt your dates with other women, it made you happy, and it made me happy. We were closer than I ever thought possible. Oddly poetic, don't you think?" And it was, in a way, similar to how a poem ends on a beat very much similar to the introduction. Abigail smile as she thought of new beginnings. She pulled towards Sarah, as her finger left her lips, and she thought about the failed dates, too many to count, she had had in this restaurant. She thought it ironic, that in a place that caused so much discontentment in her life, she finally found her one. Oddly poetic, then, that her first date would be here among the list of things that truly made her feel at home.