#291. Take Someone Out
It could have been a skyscraper, with a sniper's nest and everything. It could have been staring at each other through the wrong end of a scope.
Instead it was the version of dinner and a movie from fifty to a hundred years ago, which was dinner and a play. There was a production of Stomp playing on the West End that he had overheard her bemoaning she'd never gotten to see. It wasn't so much a surprise date as it was him grabbing her by the arm and bodily hauling her out of the office, telling her that she was ordered to take the night off and not discuss anything related to work. They got to eat, of course.
It wasn't a date. Dinner was at his favorite chips shop with liberal amounts of vinegar, mustard, mayo, and whatever else they could find within easy reach to pour over deep fried heart attack in a paper tub. Primarily to disgust each other, but it ended up being a surprisingly savory mess of red-brown colored liquid melting a hole in the bottom.
"I think I burned my mouth."
"That's what you get for not waiting till the damn things cool."
She ignored him, pulled out a knife that would have gotten her arrested if they had found it on her at Heathrow, and stabbed a piece of fried thing. He gave her a look as she proceeded to eat it off the blade.
"Now you're just showing off."
They made an incongruous sight, the pair of them. Formal wear and crossed ankles and her eating with greasy fingers and him slurping at a soda. Her with her straight back and shoulders down and head high, aware of the eyes she was gathering. Him ignoring everything in sight as much as he could, which did not include her because when he ignored her he did it for a purpose. They finished their meal and hopped down from the chairs while she was still wiping her fingers on the napkin.
"Show?"
"Show."
He grinned at her. All of his teeth smiling and sharp edges at the corners, his eyes bright behind rounded glasses. Bright and pleading.
She rolled her eyes at his smile and tucked her arm into his and tugged him along. "Come on, at least act like you're escorting me like a gentleman."
"I'm not a gentleman."
"But you can play one perfectly."
Instead it was the version of dinner and a movie from fifty to a hundred years ago, which was dinner and a play. There was a production of Stomp playing on the West End that he had overheard her bemoaning she'd never gotten to see. It wasn't so much a surprise date as it was him grabbing her by the arm and bodily hauling her out of the office, telling her that she was ordered to take the night off and not discuss anything related to work. They got to eat, of course.
It wasn't a date. Dinner was at his favorite chips shop with liberal amounts of vinegar, mustard, mayo, and whatever else they could find within easy reach to pour over deep fried heart attack in a paper tub. Primarily to disgust each other, but it ended up being a surprisingly savory mess of red-brown colored liquid melting a hole in the bottom.
"I think I burned my mouth."
"That's what you get for not waiting till the damn things cool."
She ignored him, pulled out a knife that would have gotten her arrested if they had found it on her at Heathrow, and stabbed a piece of fried thing. He gave her a look as she proceeded to eat it off the blade.
"Now you're just showing off."
They made an incongruous sight, the pair of them. Formal wear and crossed ankles and her eating with greasy fingers and him slurping at a soda. Her with her straight back and shoulders down and head high, aware of the eyes she was gathering. Him ignoring everything in sight as much as he could, which did not include her because when he ignored her he did it for a purpose. They finished their meal and hopped down from the chairs while she was still wiping her fingers on the napkin.
"Show?"
"Show."
He grinned at her. All of his teeth smiling and sharp edges at the corners, his eyes bright behind rounded glasses. Bright and pleading.
She rolled her eyes at his smile and tucked her arm into his and tugged him along. "Come on, at least act like you're escorting me like a gentleman."
"I'm not a gentleman."
"But you can play one perfectly."