Buon Appetito! RP for lieu_murphy

[cant_have_any]

Alright, so the pizzeria near the plaza wasn't exactly as cracked-up as House had made it out to be but the pride of New Jersey had been at stake. Besides, if Murphy wasn't familiar with his tall tales by now she was sleeping on the job. Romeo's was still a decent restaurant, one of House's favorites in fact, though most of his visits had either

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[lieu_murphy]

For once, by some small miracle or karmatic fluke, Murphy got done with work on time. It made her a little uneasy. If she finished work on time, it meant later something big, bad and bloody was going to go down. She also had a date, which meant her chances of getting called in late nearly doubled. Or maybe they only did that when both parties considered it a date. House wasn't going to call it that and she was fine with that. Half the fun was watching him squirm about it.

Getting out on time also gave her a chance to change from work. Not that she changed much. She pulled her hair back with a clip, leaving it half up, but that was really the only obvious change, the slick black slacks and flattering red sweater with heels wasn't much different from what she'd wear at work. It was just a little more form fitting, just a little more dressy than normal. She hoped it wouldn't put up all his red flags.

Being prompt, she was outside his door at seven and knocked. Probably be rude to barge in with her key.

[lieu_murphy]

Though she balked slightly at the intersection, her heart also sped up. House drove fast and reckless. She hadn't done something fast and reckless in a long time. She forgot how good adrenaline felt, especially when riding on the back of a motorcycle.

They definitely reached the restaurant too quickly in Murphy's opinion. She'd have to con him into taking her for a longer ride. Maybe if she offered to pay for gas, he'd oblige her. She pulled off her helmet and grinned at him.

"You're one hell of a driver, House."

[cant_have_any]

"Then maybe you'll tell your people to stop giving me tickets?" Hey, it didn't hurt to try, right? House had learned from experience that it was better to have a cop on your side.

He climbed gingerly off the motorcycle, hopping on one leg for a moment while he unhooked his cane. He glanced nervously towards the grandly decorated entrance of the restaurant and the steps leading up one side, disabled ramp on the other. Great. More public humiliation. He busied himself with removing his leather jacket, mentally preparing himself.

[lieu_murphy]

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'll see what I can do." Not that she could really do anything. Only other cops and firemen got out of tickets. She had a good reputation in the department, but not enough clout to get him on that list too.

The patient sort, Murphy waited for him. It gave her a chance to study the restaurant Fancy, but not over the top. It would probably have good food, good wine and if anyone else saw the two of them together, they'd definitely think "date". Hell, she was thinking "date". This was getting more interesting by the moment.

[cant_have_any]

Draping the jacket over the crook of one elbow, he led the way up the ramp and inside the restaurant. It wasn't an overly romantic choice. It was brightly lit with the soft glow of candles inside, the stone walls decorated with antique photos. It was a large, open space with plenty of rooms between the tables but no dark corners for couples to sneak into.

And, as always, it was busy. Over the lilt of lively Italian music there was the laughter and loud conversation of the patrons. The place was alive, warm and, House told himself, altogether non-date-like.

[lieu_murphy]

She fell into step with him, a habit she'd picked up without even realizing it. Inside, she swept her eyes over everyone, stopping to assess a few, noting the likely suspects and the exits. She could never fully turn off being a cop.

"Nice place." Done with her sweep she looked back at him. "Clearly a favorite with the locals."

[cant_have_any]

"If it's so nice then maybe you can stop dissecting it?" He asked her quietly as he moved passed her.

He hadn't missed the look she'd given as they went in and for a moment he'd thought that maybe he'd gotten it wrong, that he should have taken her somewhere else. Hooters was always nice.

And if this was ten years ago, he might have offered her his arm or placed a hand on the small of her back as a gesutre of comfort, it was what he would've done with Stacey but now his hands were always full and he wasn't sure his touch would even be welcome. Instead, he took a step ahead of her and led her to the coat room to check in his jacket and his helmet.

[lieu_murphy]

"Cop habit." She shrugged, completely unapologetic for what was probably a very rude habit. She was who she was. He could deal with it.

She checked her coat, though she normally kept it with her in case she got called to work. It was just quicker to have it handy. She might as well tempt faith while she was out taking risks.

[cant_have_any]

They were promptly met by a waiter and House took the opportunity to use his not especially extensive knowledge of Italian.

"Ho prenotato un tavolo," he said quickly.

"<>A che nome?"

"Wilson."

The man, large and loud but also charming in the way that only an Italian could be, offered them both a warm smile.

"Si, si, of course," he said enthusiastically in a heavily accented mix of English and Italian. "If you would follow me, per favore."

House nodded and moved to let Murphy go ahead of him.

[lieu_murphy]

Fluent only in English and Spanish, Murphy got the rough gist of the conversation. Thank God romance languages were similar. She had to duck her head to hide her smile at the name he gave. She shouldn't encourage that, even if it was funny as hell.

Still, she glanced at House with the same amused smile as she passed him to follow the waiter. What was one more risk?

[cant_have_any]

"I have no idea what I just said."

He gave her an almost imperceptible smile, one that also told her to keep her mouth shut. He was using Wilson's credit card after all. Using it when they thought it was his just saved him a few awkward questions.

He followed her to a table near the back of the restaurant, letting the waiter do all the schmoozing as the guy pulled out her chair for her. Like she was competent enough to do that herself, he thought.

[lieu_murphy]

If she had any idea House was also using Wilson's credit card, she would have started a lecture on credit card fraud. Luckily for him, she just figured he was using the name.

She tolerated the waiter's trained chivalry with a polite smile. However, when she sat down, she took over and dismissed the man with a look. It was brief but the guy got the message.

[cant_have_any]

House sat himself down as well, hooking his cane onto the table's edge. This was the part he'd been dreading on this... whatever it was. It still was certainly not a date. He didn't know how to have casual conversation about the weather or the food. It wasn't something that he'd ever been programmed with. It was like his copy of Dating for Dummies had been misplaced at birth and he was left to flounder in his own inadequacies... Not that this was a date. Oh, no. The minute he started thinking like that, that was it, it'd be over.

To save himself from his own thoughts, he regarded the menu the waiter handed them both with more interest than was strictly necessary. He just hoped that he wasn't squirming in his seat too much.

[lieu_murphy]

She noted his discomfort and had to agree. Small talk was boring and usually filled with stupid getting to know you questions. They were past that stage at this point.

"Relax." She said, "I won't ask what you think about the veal. I'd rather hear more about your bike."

[cant_have_any]

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair but still kept his eyes on the menu. If he didn't look at her, the chances were she wouldn't be able to read him too well. His eyes were always a giveaway.

"What about it?"

[lieu_murphy]

It was almost cute how nervous he was. If they weren't on a date, he should be more relaxed. The cop in her longed to start an interrogation and figure out just what he was so worried about. She held back, that would need to be eased into. Or brought out when the conversation died a horrible, awkward death.

"What type of engine, any modifications? What's the top speed?" She spared a glance at her own menu, noting the usual Italian dishes. "Anything and everything you're willing to tell. Oh and what will it cost me to drive me?"