i was thinking about what a friend had said [closed]
Who: bedsidemanners and brothercumface
When: September 21? .... Roughly?
Where: Some upscale Italian-type restaurant.
Format: Action.
What: A ~*~real date~*~
Warnings: Those pesky inner monologues. But don't worry, if you skip those you'll have a charming, fluffy little date. With potential goodnight kisses.
[Now, this was more Raphael's style. It was what he was accustomed to-- oh, in secret, or what passed for secret, sure-- the promise of taking an evening off with a girl, soft music playing, excellent food, and so on. The usual grand traps. Between hours he'd found the place that best suited that too-fair description in Anatole. He'd even managed to look the part as best he could, with a white tuxedo instead of his usual neat business suits.]
[Truth was what she'd said last they met had bothered him, but clearly not enough. Not enough to be all that wary, and certainly not enough to stop. So she'd been a little catty. So had he.]
[Just not out loud.]
[He grins a little at their waiter-to-be, assures him she won't be much longer, not to seat him yet. It wouldn't do to make it seem like she'd kept him waiting long enough to take a seat by his lonesome. Even less to actually order beforehand. Funny how less and less of it was pure facade talking these days and a genuine effort was starting to seep through.]
[Maybe he was falling in his own trap. At the sound of the door, he stood up, straightening his tie.]
That should be her.
When: September 21? .... Roughly?
Where: Some upscale Italian-type restaurant.
Format: Action.
What: A ~*~real date~*~
Warnings: Those pesky inner monologues. But don't worry, if you skip those you'll have a charming, fluffy little date. With potential goodnight kisses.
[Now, this was more Raphael's style. It was what he was accustomed to-- oh, in secret, or what passed for secret, sure-- the promise of taking an evening off with a girl, soft music playing, excellent food, and so on. The usual grand traps. Between hours he'd found the place that best suited that too-fair description in Anatole. He'd even managed to look the part as best he could, with a white tuxedo instead of his usual neat business suits.]
[Truth was what she'd said last they met had bothered him, but clearly not enough. Not enough to be all that wary, and certainly not enough to stop. So she'd been a little catty. So had he.]
[Just not out loud.]
[He grins a little at their waiter-to-be, assures him she won't be much longer, not to seat him yet. It wouldn't do to make it seem like she'd kept him waiting long enough to take a seat by his lonesome. Even less to actually order beforehand. Funny how less and less of it was pure facade talking these days and a genuine effort was starting to seep through.]
[Maybe he was falling in his own trap. At the sound of the door, he stood up, straightening his tie.]
That should be her.