I N S T I N C T I V E

(Thirteen.)

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Three Weeks Later

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Dwight came outside and handed Ramona her warm peach tea after buying it at the tea shop they went at when they first met. "Be careful, it's really hot." He said. She nodded. "Thank you." She said, taking it from his hands. "What did you get for yourself?" She asked. "I ordered hibiscus tea." He said.

"Wow, trying to absorb as many health benefits as you can, I assume?" She asked. He grinned. "I'm surprised you don't seem to be bothered by hot tea in hot weather. You continue to amaze me." He said. She turned to look at him. "Was that sarcasm?" She asked, gently poking his shoulder.

"No, not at all." He chuckled, then reaching down to grab her hand. Ramona looked over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone she knew was around to see them. Dwight looked confused. "What are you doing?" He asked. They began to cross the street.

"Nothing, my assistant tends to come around this area often. I was just checking to see if she was nearby today." She said. Dwight gave a half nod. "You spend time with your assistant that often?" He asked. "Sometimes." Said Ramona.

"So, where are we headed?" She asked. "It's a surprise." He said. Ramona squinted, and he stared back at her, then kissing the back of her hand. She smiled.

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Ramona seemed to be rather excited as they shuffled down the aisle into their seats at the opera house. "I can't believe it. I've always wanted to see 'Libiamo, ne' liete calici' be performed...!" She said, a prominent smile on her face while they sunk down into their seats.

"And we're a reasonable distance, too." She said. "I didn't want to make the seating too close. As I'm sure you know, an opera singers range is extremely strong." He said. "How courteous of you." Said Ramona, smiling and putting her hand onto his chest.

Once the performance had began, the two of them talked amongst one another. "Did you know that most opera performances are in Italian?" She asked him. "Yes, amongst French, German, English, and Russian. But Italian is the most famous." Dwight replied.

"Also, the word 'Opera' in Italian means to 'do work'." Said Ramona. "I'd love to see a performance in the original country of Italy as well." She said. "Someday, we can do that." He said. She lifted up her head to stare at him in his eyes. He leaned forward to peck her lips lightly, and she raised up her hand to gently massage his chin through his goatee.

He put his arm around her, resting his arm onto her shoulder. "I'll arrange the next date, alright?" She asked. "Okay." Was all Dwight said.

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"Okay, open." Said Ramona, holding a spoonful of some sort of yellow creamy sauce up to his mouth. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a white apron over her clothes. She was now out of the slim fitting dress she wore earlier and wearing pajama pants and a tank top.

The sauce was apart of creamy lemon parmesan chicken. Dwight hummed, nodding his head. "That, is amazing." He said. She fanned her head at him. "Stop trying to flatter me." She said. "Stop trying? Are you afraid that it'll work? Or has it been working extremely well?" He asked. She stared at him from the corner of her eye, and they both chuckled together.