[Speed Dating, Round Two]

[callofkaren]

With the first round done without any hiccups, Karen spent half an hour straightening things up, checking names off as the second group of half uncomfortable, half vaguely excited looking potential daters showed up, and soon it was much like the first. The spiel was the same, drinks were handed out, and luckily getting everyone in order came easily

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[odunham]

She'd almost changed her mind at the last minute.

It was a moment of insanity, signing up for speed dating, and while Olivia would have liked to take it back, admitting that the very idea of it made her anxious for the simple reason that she had no idea how to act on a date at all wasn't something she wanted to deal with.

So she put on a pair of slacks and a nice blouse, showed up, and immediately felt better to be surrounded by others in the same predicament. It wasn't embarrassing, not really, but every few minutes Olivia had to ask herself what the hell she was doing.

Even as she sat down and waited for the signal to begin, she sighed. This was insane, but no less crazy than everything else she'd been through in the last two months.

[weary_head]

Dean slides into his first seat of the evening, whiskey clutched like a lifeline in his hand. It's only long years of practice that keep his expression casual, but his insides are crawling with nerves, his eyeballs practically twitching with the effort of not looking at Faye.

Looking at the woman across from him is cheering, at least - she's beautiful and she looks like she could hand him his ass, two things for which Dean is more than passing fond. He should compliment her, her hair or something, or her pretty eyes, but to his horror, when he opens his mouth the first thing he blurts is, "Do you think it's possible a woman would sign up for this kind of thing just to make a guy jealous?"

He shuts his mouth with a click. "Uh, I'm Dean."

[odunham]

Well, this was a good way to start the night, and the perfect icebreaker. It may have been enough to keep Dean off any possible future dating list, but Olivia gave him a smile, and started to relax.

"Possibly," she said, and shrugged. "I'm Olivia."

[weary_head]

"Great," Dean replies, grinning at her until he realizes that's a fucking stupid thing to say, just as it is to be relieved that she hasn't laughed at him. She's probably hiding it. She seems collected like that.

"Uh," he says, deciding to be honest, "I kind of only signed up because this woman I like signed up, that was stupid. I'm not really sure what we're supposed to talk about here. Top ten turn-ons? Because at least five of mine begin and end with a cheeseburger."

[artemiodes]

In general, Camilla strives for subtlety. The white cotton skirt that flutters in the wind just slightly too high, the just-too-grown-out haircut that is coaxed into appearing to have a mind of its own, the smile that entices while promising nothing - these are the tokens she offers to those lucky enough to catch her eye. And then she waits for her admirers to come to her, and never the other way around.

Speed dating is not subtle. But when she had seen in the sign up sheet, she had put her name down in a fit of pique. Why not? she had thought. This wasn't Hampden College, where such an event would surely have been run by the likes of Judy Poovey, and all who showed up either too desperate to find dates the usual way, or too impatient. Here, people are friendly. Here, intentions are laughably overt. If she is stuck here, why not join in the game? Si fueris Romae, Romano vivito more as they say

[weary_head]

"Uh, hey," says Dean, still shaken but mostly recovered after barfing his insecurities all over Olivia. Taking a deep breath, he resolves to do better, showing this woman a bright, if slightly panicked smile.

"Hey," he says again around another mouthful of whiskey. "I'm Dean." Jesus, she looks young, innocent in a way the old Dean might have pursued back home. "I like your dress. Yellow is. Good."

[artemiodes]

Camilla arches an eyebrow and presses her lips together to hide a smirk - and all of a sudden, she looks older than she did before. More knowing, at least. She allows the awkward compliment to settle for a moment before she speaks. "So I'm guessing you're new to this, too," she says with twinkling eyes.

At least he's easy on the eyes, she thinks, if in a tough-dumb-football-playing sort of way.

[weary_head]

And just like that the innocence is gone, replaced by something Dean should have seen there in the first place, the out-of-your-league painted all over her. Weirdly, it serves to settle his nerves.

"Never done the speed dating thing before," he confesses, showing her a decent smile this time. "I'm Dean, and I gotta say, you don't seem like you need to sign up for one of these things to get a date."

[broken_brushes]

I was trying to be a team player.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself about the entire speed dating experience. Truth told, I didn't want to date anyone, speedily or otherwise, but after my mishap down in Rapture, I'd become very much aware that a change in my attitude was in order. I couldn't keep acting like I was open to everyone while being anything but in actuality.

So. Team player. Speed dating. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

I settled myself at a table, put on my best Councilwoman smile and steeled myself for the onslaught of masculinity.

[weary_head]

Dean sinks into the chair across from Shari with a wide eyed, tightlipped expression that's bordering on hysteria. Three dates in, and his game is really not improving, nor would it be a good time for it to start. He touches his lips to his glass and does not think of the time they kissed under the mistletoe.

"My toes are red," he says. "That's how hard I'm blushing, now does that in any way fill you with enough pity to get us through this."

[broken_brushes]

"I'm a little concerned about why you're blushing," I warily replied as I eyed Dean's frantic posture and expression. "I mean, I can objectively concede that you're a good looking guy, but I'm not going to launch myself over the table in a fit of lust or anything."

[weary_head]

"Still weird," Dean grumbles. It's sort of like sitting across the table from his own brother, but he's not suicidal enough to say so. "I didn't expect to see you here," he adds, brightening all at once. "Hey, is this 'cause you're taking my advice? Giving the whole not alone thing another try?"

[hightail]

She'd had worse ideas.

She'd also had far, far better ideas. It was a testament to how thrown she had been by the anniversary of the crash that she had impulsively signed up for this last minute, that desperate for something to do, for something to occupy her thoughts. Part of her argued that it was preferable to spending the night sitting on the beach and reliving the crash yet again; the rest of her remained unconvinced. Regardless, she was here now, it was too late to back out, and the plan had, in a way, actually worked. Kate was currently too busy criticizing her latest life decision to think about how many years had passed since the flight went down on an island eerily similar to this one, and yet not at all the same.

[weary_head]

It's fifteen minutes in, and Dean thinks there might be something wrong with him. He's sweaty, he's cold, his cheeks feel kind of funny from frantically smiling, and he sort of wants to hurl. His palms feel gross, so he keeps them wrapped around his glass, holding onto it like it's the only thing keeping him upright when he sits down across from his next date.

"I'm Dean," he says, "would you date me? I mean, in theory. I have a baby sister I'm pretty much raising as my own, my fiance left the island like a month before we were supposed to get married, I'm kind of a pushy asshole sometimes, and I might have a drinking problem. I mean, right?" Dean's breath leaves him with a wild burst of laughter, and he stifles it with another slug of whiskey. "Who would date a guy like that?"

[hightail]

If nothing else, he deserves credit for most original opening line(s) so far. After exhaling slowly, Kate can't help her lips from twisting into a small smirk, more amused than it is at all mischievous. She might deem it a decent strategy, even, laying all of one's cards flat on the table, were he not also giving her the impression that he's already resigned himself to the inevitability that the night won't end well. She can't say she has high hopes herself, but he's reminded her of something that was public knowledge back in Los Angeles, and fifteen minutes in, she thinks she could afford to be a little open. "I'm Kate, and I almost married a guy like that," she admits. "The details were a little different, but it could've worked, if he'd just - He had a lot going on. We all did. But the drinking, that'd be the deal breaker, if it were me."

[weary_head]

"Should be," says Dean with a smile that holds no rebellion for the thought, his mouth losing its manic quirk just long enough to look sad. He rolls his glass between his fingers and doesn't lift it. "Any lady deserves as much," he says and means it. And he will stop. He's just...not there yet.

"Anyway, that's probably the most awkward opener you'll hear tonight, so at least that's out of the way. Where you from, Kate?"

[velation]

The idea of giving a man five minutes, no more and no less, was too appealing to Faye Valentine for her to skip out on the opportunity. Only recently having reestablished that the island was too stifling and limiting for anyone who willingly chose to live life as a bounty hunter, Faye had, in the past couple of weeks, been making a desperate grab towards anything fleeting. Anything that would give her the sensation of running from her problems, of being impossible to pin down. As far as choices went, the decision to speed-date was, admittedly, pretty tame. But at the very least, she could lose herself in trying to wrap people around her finger, while also making it clear to each and every one that attempts to hold her still would be almost certain to fail.

She hadn't quite counted on a certain name being added to the sign-up sheet shortly after her own, but maybe that was necessary, too. For him to realize that Faye didn't always have the heart to stay.

Assuming that he wanted her to in the first place.

Showing up in a layered red

[weary_head]

Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck, he is not ready for this. He has not in any way, shape, or form recovered himself, his dignity, or his pride, but there she is, his next date, and Dean sits down as if shoved there by invisible hands.

"Hi," he says weakly, staring at Faye like she might somehow rescue him. Like she might want to. This is a bad idea. Why has he done this? He would rather be fighting vampires, ghouls. Christ, he's sweating too much. His hair feels wilted. "You signed up for speed dating." That fucking dress. He can smell flowers. "You - you smell good."

[velation]

There are excuses waiting on the tip of Faye's tongue, barbed words all raised in a defense. If there's anything about Dean that brushes her the wrong way, it's the anger he displayed down in Rapture, protecting her either out of a sharp sense of ownership, or perhaps an inability to trust in her strength. (Both these thoughts come harsh now, almost grating, but Faye remembers what it felt like in the moment, and that memory, however buried, hasn't faded.)

All of them fall short when she glances up, catches sight of him, after having decidedly kept her gaze turned away during the rest of the dates. Whether or not it's her doing, she doesn't want to know. Doesn't dare to believe. But the sight still strikes her directly in the stomach, a muttered curse under her breath as she reaches out, palm against his temple, like the brush of a hand might reveal anything else. Fever, illness.

It doesn't.

"You've been drinking," she murmurs, not sure if this counts as a promise broken.

[weary_head]

He doesn't really get why she's touching him. Dean tries to like it anyway, because it's got to be more positive than her pushing her chair back in a huff, but mostly he just feels like a tool.

"Deal was I drink less," he says, "not stop." It's probably the wrong thing to say. Wrong seems to be all he can muster tonight, and Dean indulges in a brief fantasy between himself and a paper bag. "Did you smoke?" Fuck, don't sound judgmental, that's kind of what you led with. "I mean, I know it's hard to quit."

This is the least sexy conversation of all time.