as_damaged | ☎ voicemail [v 2.0]

You wouldn't get to know what you'd go back to. That's part of the point. Presumably it's going to happen eventually.

[He pockets his hands, though it's not as cold as this time of year sometimes gets. Maybe the real bite will kick in come November.]

Solid run, then.

If I had a choice in the matter. [Which, as far as she knows, she doesn't.] Though I doubt one way is actually, objectively better than the other.

Depends how far you subscribe to the theory that ignorance is bliss. Or knowledge is power. Probably a few other cliches.

[No one gets a choice in the matter, but there is one choice he could offer her that only a select few get. Gauging whether it's a good idea or not is a trickier matter - and one for later. He catches her arm, probably unnecessarily, to pull her up outside the restaurant.]

Looks busy. I hope that means its good.

I'd guess the only true one is that the grass is always greener on the other side.

[She's wanted to know and she's wanted to forget, at various points. Going home-- living through it-- would take care of her curiosity, but she's willing to bet she'd regret the loss of whatever naivety is left to her, at least in part. Ignorance isn't bliss, but it isn't hopelessness either.]

Well, there's only one way to find out.

[He holds the door, barely given time to gesture her through ahead of him before being met by an attentive maitre d'. The reservations are for Chase, and their table for two aligns them with a view of the kitchen, but a small degree of privacy from the rest of the dining room, however much that may be down to the careful angling of their seats.

Chase almost looks put out when he's beaten to holding hers out for her.]

[Leave a little for the rest of the world to do, Chase. She's starting to wonder if she's forgotten-- or maybe, never known-- a special occasion.]

Maybe I've been settling for takeout too often.

[He's got one of those coming up in May. second wedding anniversary, considering the lack of any technical divorce.]

I was working on 'could be better'. Figured that had to be something more impressive than showing up with gyros.

[She'd wonder more, but honestly she'd guess at a spring wedding, if she knows herself at all.]

I think living here has lowered my standards on what constitutes a good day.

[Which makes a reminder quite welcome, not that she'll say so. Even if she rather hopes he can tell.]

Glad to be an improvement on- [He pulls an example out of the air] -being eaten by giant sand worms.

[The waiter comes over with wine (pre-ordered) and addresses Chase in low tones. He gestures across the table.]

I think the lady might prefer to order for herself.

[The lady does, an eyebrow lifted slightly at the wine as she chooses and orders, waiting a moment to pick up the thread of conversation as he walks away.]

I'd say nearly anything is an improvement on that, but...

[Enough said, as they say. The Deities are endlessly creative.]

But that's hardly gracious dinner conversation.

Would you be offended if I said you're not the most gracious woman I know?

[Because really, Cameron, it's one of the reasons he likes you, and his expression, hopefully, makes that evident.]

I appreciate the restraint.

If nothing else, I wouldn't be surprised.

[Nor offended, for what it's worth.]

There are degrees of better, though.

That's true. How am I doing so far?

Do you really need me to tell you?

[He lives for positive reinforcement - that much will never change. So of course he does, Cameron. But it doesn't seem to be the correct response to say yes now, so he glances across the room to check if the food is on it's way.]

Maybe by the end of the evening.

Maybe.

[Too much feedback is against the rules, as surely as explaining the rules would be. But she's still wearing that ghost of a smile, leaning back in her seat with a forearm resting on the edge of the table.]

I hope it's an improvement in your evening, too.

Well, I was on the last chapter of a really great book.

[It's... not as much of a joke as he makes out. Chase has yet to figure out that the nights spent on his own with whatever the library has deigned to give him, takeout and a solitary bottle of beer might be considered less sad than the ones at random bars with random people. He is, at least, gradually working out that the latter don't make him feel less empty, or more than temporarily less alone.]

You still win, by a margin.

[Haha book joke?]

[Now, now, puns are a slippery slope into abject corniness. Evenings spent with takeout and a book are much closer to Cameron's usual-- and, truth be told, to her ideal-- though the City's peculiarities tend to drive her out to dinners alone in crowded restaurants more often than she'd like.]

I suppose I'll have to work on widening it.

[At the least, she's starting to relax a bit.]

[He grins into his wine glass, lifting it off the table as their starters arrive. And, at least on appearances, it seems that the restaurant's reputation is well deserved. When they're alone again:]

So, I decided something while I was locked in my office the other week. I've been trying to figure out whether you'll think it's a good idea or not.

Is this your way of buttering me up before you run it by me?

[The thought spoils her relaxation a bit, but it doesn't much show as she sips her wine.]

No, it's my way of getting to spend some time with you somewhere I thought you might like. Running it by you was going to happen either way.

Edited 2012-11-05 02:09 (UTC)

That's a relief.

[Can't take a joke, hmn?]

So?

[He's just a little nervous. She might be too if she had the potential to open Pandora's box.

(but at the bottom of the box is...)]

I don't want to keep secrets from you.

[That comes out quickly.]

From House, when it's possible, yes. Wilson, fine. I don't want to keep them from you. I also don't want to lay things out you might not want to know.

[He looks down at his hands and doesn't make the qualifier that what she thinks she wants to know may be different from the reality. For all that telling her had made things fall apart, not telling her was working the same trick in a different way. Not telling her just meant she yelled at patients and stalked him to the gym.]

What I'm saying is, next time I'll shut the door. I won't lock it.

[Well that's... something. She doesn't need to ask why she should be different (maybe that's telling; but then, perhaps not. It's not as though their history is a secret, even if her future ought to be.]

All right.

[It takes her a long moment of thought to add to that. She knows just enough to know that further knowledge won't make things any better; but not knowing weighs hard on her here, too.]

I don't-- that can't have been an easy decision, I'm sure.

[He doesn't want to seem like he's being gracious, here. Like this is a gift. It's not - he knows what it's lead to before. It's more like offering to share a heavy weight.]

I don't think it would be an easy decision for you to open the door.

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as_damaged - 2012-11-16 02:37 (UTC) - Expand

☎ voicemail [v 2.0]

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