...somwhere at the bar of the restaurant...tm_darlaJuly 30 2005, 17:54:13 UTC
Somewhat later in the evening, as she has no intention to come across as either a mother hen to a teenager or desperate for the attention of an ex lover old aquaintance, Darla shows up in a stunning red dress, and in the company of an expendable male accessoire. (In fact one of the college students who do research at the museum; he has been asking her out for a drink for months.) A discreet glance tells her that the Immortal is indeed still here, but she tries not to check whether Kara still is, and at any rate does not look again.
Re: ...somwhere at the bar of the restaurant...suey_generisJuly 30 2005, 19:25:21 UTC
Kara is headed safely home, and the Immortal makes an effort to come into the bar from the back way, while Darla is distracted by . . . who the hell is that young guy, anyway? He looks like a fucking art student. He looks like he belongs here, unlike Darla, who's clearly too much of a classic beauty for this trendy place. Though of course, she adjusts, like she always does. She almost blends, but she's too good for this place, too good for that guy, and she knows it.
He waits for the Wannabe to go off after more drinks, then glides up behind Darla.
He's figured out by now that it's a corny line, but it still has some mileage, ironically speaking
What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?
Re: ...somwhere at the bar of the restaurant...tm_darlaJuly 30 2005, 20:35:56 UTC
She almost replies "maybe she's lonely", but then checks herself. This is an exchange that only belonges to her and Angel, even and especially in irony. Still, she can't help but feeling a disquieting amount of joy and satisfaction when hearing the Immortal speak. It's not sentimentality, she tells herself, just the good feeling a woman gets when a man has been sulking because she might have really done something to wrong him, but when she has managed to get him to make all the conciliatory overtures nonetheless. A strategic triumph, that's what it is. And a triumph allows one to be gracious. So she smiles, slightly leans her head back and murmurs, teasing
Hearing this, the art student, returned with two drinks does more than frown. He throws himself into a manly posture, telling the Immortal: "I happen to be the guy with the lady, dude." And adds, addressed to Darla: "Want me to do something about him? Or do you know this idiot? What's his deal?" (He's overcompensating for the years of teasing at high school about being interested in art and being a sissy for it.)
"He's unique,"
Darla says, replying to the poor art student first, who has now fulfilled his purpose as a demonstration. But given that Holtz is around now, she'd rather not collect another human enemy in her immediate surroundings, so she gives the art student a face saving excuse and adds
"And a generous sponsor who's going to finance our next exhibition about Artemsia Gentileschi. It's been lovely, Greg. See you tomorrow?"
The art student swallows, looks quarrelsome, but knows about the realities of sponsoring, shoots a poisonous look in the Immortal's direction, and withdraws. Darla turns towards the Immortal with
( ... )
The Immortal looks after Greg, not bothering to disguise his disbelief.
Did he actually just call me dude? And I suppose the price of having you to myself will consist of financing a roomful of Artemesia's work? Well, I'd say the dear girl deserves the recognition, even if it comes a few centuries late.
One of the ambiguously-gendered waitstaff floats by, and Todd signals to him/her/it.
I'd sacrifice my firstborn for a 30 year Glenmorangie about now. Neat. And...can you just bring a bottle? And another of what the lady's having.
He doesn't wait for the waitcreature to be out of earshot before he turns to Darla.
Do you think that's a he or a she? I'm almost tempted to seduce it order to find out.
Well, you could always ruin Artemisia's and my reputation and not spend a penny. I don't want you to end up destitute, after all.
Adding with a mischievous smile
Though you'd make such an appealing Oliver Twist. It's the little boy in you.
Which men naturally hate to be compared to. Though if she wanted to insult rather than tease, she'd have said "Little Lord Fountleroy". When the Immortal makes his comment about the waitcreature, said creature stops in its tracks. Darla rises and whispers in the Immortal's ear: "Let me spare you the trouble of finding out. It might cost you another champagne bottle otherwise." And she makes the few steps to the waitcreature, overtakes it, puts her arms around and kisses it without breaking eye contact with the Immortal. It's neither a peck on the lips nor a violent kiss, just long enough to be thorough. Then she returns to her seat
( ... )
It's probably the combination of not having seen Darla for so long, and of his preoccupation with possible headlines: "Campbell's Companion Caught in Clutch".
Look, what say we blow this joint for. . .well, anywhere but here?
she says, her already good mood improving by the second. It's always good to have an effect if you wanted to, and to remind certain people they're not dealing with endearing teenagers or lovestruck witches.
Now that is a surprise. Darla has always been fond of opera, but the Bayreuth Festival has been out of the question, not because of the difficulties of getting a ticket - killing a previous owner had been easy enough when treating Angelus and herself to performances of the Bolshoi Ballet, after all - but because the performances in Bayreuth always start in the afternoon, with full sunlight. Delighted, she replies
Thrilling, caro.
Then she recalls she's supposed to generally be around the house and look after Kara when not working, and certainly not to take any more days off at the museum, so she adds
If we can make it there and back again during the weekend. I don't want Wesley to go all Wagnerian on my and skewer me with a sword if anything happens, after all.
There and back during the weekend is ideal, as it makes it easy not to mention it to Piper. He's told her that he'll always let her know when he sees Darla in Boston and, well. . .this way, they'll hardly be spending any time together in Boston.
Good, because the jet's all fueled-up, and I just happen to have a pair of tickets to this weekend's performance.
Though Darla knows his musical taste, and will quickly surmise that -- quite apart from the extreme difficulty of acquiring tickets -- he is just about as likely to "happen to have" Wagner tickets as to "happen to" schedule a root canal surgery for pleasure.
It's "Tristran," he adds quickly, and honestly. Love potions and star-crossedness and such; it's my favorite, by far.
Which is undoutedly true, in the sense that he has found beheading less painful than being burned alive. He can hack "Tristran," though the gesture will be entirely for Darla's sake. And some people have suggested that he's not capable of a selfless act. . .
Darla is aware he's making a big gesture here, and is determined to reward him appropriately. She even feels a renewed twitch of guilt about the Eryn thing. What he wrote about trust stung a bit. He can trust her to have his back. And to be true to her own nature, which should have told him she wouldn't let the girl go with a few apologies for the kidnapping.
Still, misunderstandings are the spice of life, especially when they're followed by opera tickets and reconciliations that promise to be rewarding.
"Oh, hehrstes Wunder, göttlicher Mann,"
she says, only slightly twisting Wagner's words, and if there is irony in her words, there is also affection and gratitude. As she continues, the sultry teasing creeps back.
"You're, as darling Kara would say, the biz. And since you provide the entertainment, I promise the treats are going to be on me."
If the Immortal could have any wish he wanted for the rst of his life, it would be for the several complicated and intriguing women with whom he is, in various ways, involved, to stop mentioning each other's names at crucial moments. He, of course, would be free to mention their names as much as he saw fit. Just -- every once in a while he would like to compartmentalize. Determined to ignore the Kara reference, for the moment, he says,
I have no objection to treats, though perhaps you'll forgive me if I keep my eye on any beverages you should choose to serve me? With a smile. I wouldn't want you getting any ideas from Isolde.
The waiter comes back with a drink for Darla, two glasses, and the hundred-plus dollar bottle of Scotch that the Immortal just ordered.
What's THAT? he demands, looking annoyed. Darla kissed the guy to make a point, what's he doing coming back?
Turning to Darla. . .
What say we get out of here as soon as possible?
Preferably before Lawrence Riley gets back with his legal team.
She has to laugh, because he is so endearingly vain. As if she would ever resort to a love potion in regards to anyone. (Or poison, for that matter, though now that she's human, she might have to reconsider killing options.)
And when have I ever needed potions to get under anyone's skin, caro?
she asks, conveniently ignoring certain powders that kept her boy dreaming when she wanted to explore said dreams. She's set to make another jest about "serving" when the waiter arrives, first looking somewhat expectant at both the Immortal and Darla, and then looking distinctly crushed when hearing the Immortal's question. "Your ordered drinks, sir," he says with a frown.
Write them on his bill, dear,
Darla says lightheartedly before the Immortal can further anger the waiter (who happens to be not a bad kisser).
"We're off."
She rises again, just in time to spot Lawrence Riley reentering the restaurant, not in the company of his wife (lucky for Darla, since Colleen met her before and has no idea about her connection to Todd Campbell)
( ... )
I don't think that guy likes me. In fact, there may be some kind of little court order about how I'm not supposed to be within a hundred feet of him. Or possibly meters. How am I supposed to tell how much that is, anyway?
The statement is absolutely true. Part of Alan's compromise with the Rileys, when they thought that Todd was stalking their son, involved a court-issued restraining order, involving Connor and any member of his immediate family -- unfortunate phrasing that would, of course, have included Darla if interpreted literally. But the Immortal had accepted, with no intention of interpreting it at all. It's the sort of technicality he is all too happy to ignore, under most circumstances.
However, at the moment, it presents the rationale for a possible exit strategy. Provided that Darla doesn't recognize Mr. Riley, which the Immortal hopes against hope that she won't.
Reply
He waits for the Wannabe to go off after more drinks, then glides up behind Darla.
He's figured out by now that it's a corny line, but it still has some mileage, ironically speaking
What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?
Reply
I didn't know there were any other girls like me.
Reply
There you have me, cara. Not a one.
He looks up to see the art school dork frowning at him.
Who is that guy? I don't like him.
Reply
"He's unique,"
Darla says, replying to the poor art student first, who has now fulfilled his purpose as a demonstration. But given that Holtz is around now, she'd rather not collect another human enemy in her immediate surroundings, so she gives the art student a face saving excuse and adds
"And a generous sponsor who's going to finance our next exhibition about Artemsia Gentileschi. It's been lovely, Greg. See you tomorrow?"
The art student swallows, looks quarrelsome, but knows about the realities of sponsoring, shoots a poisonous look in the Immortal's direction, and withdraws. Darla turns towards the Immortal with ( ... )
Reply
Did he actually just call me dude? And I suppose the price of having you to myself will consist of financing a roomful of Artemesia's work? Well, I'd say the dear girl deserves the recognition, even if it comes a few centuries late.
One of the ambiguously-gendered waitstaff floats by, and Todd signals to him/her/it.
I'd sacrifice my firstborn for a 30 year Glenmorangie about now. Neat. And...can you just bring a bottle? And another of what the lady's having.
He doesn't wait for the waitcreature to be out of earshot before he turns to Darla.
Do you think that's a he or a she? I'm almost tempted to seduce it order to find out.
Reply
Well, you could always ruin Artemisia's and my reputation and not spend a penny. I don't want you to end up destitute, after all.
Adding with a mischievous smile
Though you'd make such an appealing Oliver Twist. It's the little boy in you.
Which men naturally hate to be compared to. Though if she wanted to insult rather than tease, she'd have said "Little Lord Fountleroy". When the Immortal makes his comment about the waitcreature, said creature stops in its tracks. Darla rises and whispers in the Immortal's ear: "Let me spare you the trouble of finding out. It might cost you another champagne bottle otherwise." And she makes the few steps to the waitcreature, overtakes it, puts her arms around and kisses it without breaking eye contact with the Immortal. It's neither a peck on the lips nor a violent kiss, just long enough to be thorough. Then she returns to her seat ( ... )
Reply
Um . . .
It's probably the combination of not having seen Darla for so long, and of his preoccupation with possible headlines: "Campbell's Companion Caught in Clutch".
Look, what say we blow this joint for. . .well, anywhere but here?
Reply
she says, her already good mood improving by the second. It's always good to have an effect if you wanted to, and to remind certain people they're not dealing with endearing teenagers or lovestruck witches.
Reply
He takes her by the elbow and pulls her close, leaning down to murmur in her ear,
How does Bayreuth sound?
Reply
Thrilling, caro.
Then she recalls she's supposed to generally be around the house and look after Kara when not working, and certainly not to take any more days off at the museum, so she adds
If we can make it there and back again during the weekend. I don't want Wesley to go all Wagnerian on my and skewer me with a sword if anything happens, after all.
Reply
Good, because the jet's all fueled-up, and I just happen to have a pair of tickets to this weekend's performance.
Though Darla knows his musical taste, and will quickly surmise that -- quite apart from the extreme difficulty of acquiring tickets -- he is just about as likely to "happen to have" Wagner tickets as to "happen to" schedule a root canal surgery for pleasure.
It's "Tristran," he adds quickly, and honestly. Love potions and star-crossedness and such; it's my favorite, by far.
Which is undoutedly true, in the sense that he has found beheading less painful than being burned alive. He can hack "Tristran," though the gesture will be entirely for Darla's sake. And some people have suggested that he's not capable of a selfless act. . .
Reply
Still, misunderstandings are the spice of life, especially when they're followed by opera tickets and reconciliations that promise to be rewarding.
"Oh, hehrstes Wunder, göttlicher Mann,"
she says, only slightly twisting Wagner's words, and if there is irony in her words, there is also affection and gratitude. As she continues, the sultry teasing creeps back.
"You're, as darling Kara would say, the biz. And since you provide the entertainment, I promise the treats are going to be on me."
Reply
I have no objection to treats, though perhaps you'll forgive me if I keep my eye on any beverages you should choose to serve me? With a smile. I wouldn't want you getting any ideas from Isolde.
The waiter comes back with a drink for Darla, two glasses, and the hundred-plus dollar bottle of Scotch that the Immortal just ordered.
What's THAT? he demands, looking annoyed. Darla kissed the guy to make a point, what's he doing coming back?
Turning to Darla. . .
What say we get out of here as soon as possible?
Preferably before Lawrence Riley gets back with his legal team.
Reply
And when have I ever needed potions to get under anyone's skin, caro?
she asks, conveniently ignoring certain powders that kept her boy dreaming when she wanted to explore said dreams. She's set to make another jest about "serving" when the waiter arrives, first looking somewhat expectant at both the Immortal and Darla, and then looking distinctly crushed when hearing the Immortal's question. "Your ordered drinks, sir," he says with a frown.
Write them on his bill, dear,
Darla says lightheartedly before the Immortal can further anger the waiter (who happens to be not a bad kisser).
"We're off."
She rises again, just in time to spot Lawrence Riley reentering the restaurant, not in the company of his wife (lucky for Darla, since Colleen met her before and has no idea about her connection to Todd Campbell) ( ... )
Reply
The Immortal hides his face.
I don't think that guy likes me. In fact, there may be some kind of little court order about how I'm not supposed to be within a hundred feet of him. Or possibly meters. How am I supposed to tell how much that is, anyway?
The statement is absolutely true. Part of Alan's compromise with the Rileys, when they thought that Todd was stalking their son, involved a court-issued restraining order, involving Connor and any member of his immediate family -- unfortunate phrasing that would, of course, have included Darla if interpreted literally. But the Immortal had accepted, with no intention of interpreting it at all. It's the sort of technicality he is all too happy to ignore, under most circumstances.
However, at the moment, it presents the rationale for a possible exit strategy. Provided that Darla doesn't recognize Mr. Riley, which the Immortal hopes against hope that she won't.
Reply
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