“Sure, Newcastle.” She watched for the reaction she knew would come, the way his face broke wide open with that boyish smile.

“A true beer drinker,” he said. “Impressive.”

It was Jaya’s father who had taught her to drink beer properly before she left for university. Her mother thought it was uncouth, but her father understood how things worked outside the delicate confines of diplomatic life, where women sipped champagne and men nursed crystal tumblers of single malt, and he wanted his daughter to be prepared. At first, Jaya detested the bitter flavor, but in time, she learned to identify the flavors of hops and barley until she could tell the difference between a blonde and a pilsner. She loved the rich, malty taste of Newcastle Brown Ale, but it was so heavy, she rarely drank more than one.

A second full glass appeared on the table before her. Jaya inclined her head toward the glass in thanks to him. “I’ll have to pick up my pace.”

“I’m in no hurry.” He slid his barstool closer before sitting again. As Jaya learned in the conversation that followed, he was an investment banker with Morgan Stanley. Having spent the past two years in New York, he’d come to London for his third year with the firm, a temporary posting before attending business school back home.

“Why business school?” she asked, not expecting much of an answer. But Keith described the financial markets as a living, breathing animal with complex machinery. He explained how each part functioned: debt capital markets financed loans that made it possible for people to buy houses; corporate finance helped companies sell stakes to the public; and in his part, mergers and acquisitions, companies bought others to gain new business lines or divest themselves of parts that no longer fit. It was almost poetic the way he described everything working together to make people’s lives more productive.

“Wow, that’s quite an answer,” Jaya said, reaching for the fresh glass of beer, noticing with a sideways glance that Anja and the other guy were still chatting and laughing.

“You like that?” Keith said, holding his glass up to clink hers. “I’ve been working on my application essays.”

Toward the end of her second Newcastle, Jaya told Keith about her work at the Foreign Policy Centre, how she’d been fortunate to land such a coveted job after studying international relations and anthropology at university. Keith leaned toward Jaya to compensate for the increasing noise in the bar, his brow knitted in concentration as she spoke about water quality and constitutional reforms, trying to impress him.

When the bar became more crowded, Anja leaned across the table. “Hey, let’s get out of here, go get some dinner?” The air outside was still warm and heavy as they deliberated over where to eat. Keith proposed going for a curry and Jaya wondered if he was just indulging her. Either way, she didn’t care. They hopped into a taxi, a giggling Anja jammed in the back seat between the two men, while Jaya directed the cab driver to her favorite Indian restaurant.