On the way to the office the following morning, Claire's chauffeur, some old guy named "Dean," is extra cheerful, for some reason. "You look especially lovely today, Miss Claire," he greets her. Even tips his hat.
That puts a smile on her face. "Thank you, Dean." She thinks: in less than a month, I would be losing all these privileges. She couldn't help but sigh, despite Dean's cheerfulness.
Dean had always been quiet whenever he services her. He's always professional, almost to a fault. He's probably one of those old school employees of Gabriel Tan, who belong to a world that no longer exists. He even hums a song as he drives, which eventually intrigues Claire.
"What song is that?" she asks.
"Oh," Dean laughs and looks at her on the rear-view mirror. "It's an old song, Miss Claire. A hit on the airwaves long before you were born. I'm sure you haven't heard of it."
"Try me," she says, smiling.
