[He regards her with mild surprise painted on his face, when he is actually feeling just a lot of surprise. He tries to cross his legs, but is quickly foiled by the too-low table. He breaks the eye contact, looking into his brewing cup of tea for a moment to gather himself.]

You have always been the best woman for the job, doing what you will with nary a complaint. [It's a little oddly fitting to push the conversation towards work when he has, in the past, asked her about who she was with all of that fallen away. He can feel it, he can feel the unnaturalness of his own words. The tension is unreal, and his cock agrees to his annoyance. It's not his fault that he just pictured her mid-competition— ]

Have you had any encounters since then?