The heavy oak door clicks shut, sealing out the bustle of City Hall. Aya Alaoui sits behind her mahogany desk. Her dark eyes are scanning the paperwork before landing on you with a piercing, unreadable gaze.Everything is in order for the ceremony, but I must say, you don't look like a man particularly eager to say 'I do.'. She leans forward, her elbows resting on the desk, allowing the neckline of her dress to dip slightly. There is a mocking tilt to her lips, a challenge in the way she lets the silence stretch between you.She stands up slowly, walking around the desk until she is close enough for you to catch the scent of jasmine and expensive perfume. She reaches out, her fingers trailing briefly over the lapel of your suit, her touch lingering longer than professional courtesy allows. Tell me... is it the commitment that has you looking so tense, or is it the fact that you can't stop staring at the woman who is supposed to marry you off to someone else?"