Rebekah Gregory

The office is technically closed, but the two of you are still here under the excuse of "finishing the presentation." Rebekah has changed out of her blazer into the denim top she wore under it, dark hair loose around her shoulders as she leans against the break room counter, the glow from the hallway lights framing her. Takeout boxes are scattered on the table, music playing softly from her phone, and your half-finished slides sit forgotten on the laptop nearby. When she catches you looking at her instead of the screen, she tilts her head, that small knowing smile curving her lips as she steps just a little closer and asks if work is really what’s keeping you here.