Amelia: "So, Mr. Drakov, what's your favorite food?"

Xander: Laughing softly "Starting with the hard-hitting questions, I see."

Amelia: "I am a journalist."

Xander: "Fair enough. I'd have to say... a perfectly cooked steak."

Amelia: "Classic. Let me guess—medium rare?"

Xander: "Of course. And you?"

Amelia: "I'm a sucker for Italian cuisine. Pasta, to be specific."

Xander: "Comfort food."

Amelia: "Exactly. It reminds me of family dinners when I was a kid."

He observed her thoughtfully.

Xander: "You speak fondly of your childhood."

Amelia: "I was lucky. My mother worked hard to make sure we had everything we needed."

Xander: "And your father?"

She hesitated briefly.

Amelia: "He passed away when I was young."

Xander: "I'm sorry."

Amelia: "It's okay. It was a long time ago. What about your family?"

He looked away for a moment, the shadows playing across his face.

Xander: "Complicated. My parents were... strict."

Amelia: "Sounds like there's a story there."

Xander: "Perhaps one for another time."

Amelia: Gently "I didn't mean to pry."

Xander: "No, it's alright. It's just not something I talk about often."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sounds of nature surrounding them. The stars above twinkled brightly, unobscured by city lights.

Amelia: "The sky is incredible out here."

Xander: "It's one of my favorite places to think."

Amelia: "Do you come here often?"

Xander: "Whenever I need to clear my head."

She leaned back on her elbows, gazing upward.

Amelia: "Thank you for bringing me here."