Are We Calling This a Date?

[Morgan Lake] This is where they are - on the border between campus and the Mile at a nice little microbrewery-bistro known for its wide array of beers, its obscure bands and its hamburgers and fries. The people milling around outside seem to mostly be the khaki-and-polo set, at least for the guys, while the girls have a wider array of choices, most in the 'sexy' end of the spectrum. And then? Then there's Morgan, standing outside where she'd arranged to meet him, clad in a white, short sleeved button down shirt with a red and gold tie . . . and a dark gray pleated skirt that hits somewhere just above her knees, and red and gold argyle knee socks below that. Her red hair is down and arranged to a pretty, artful wave and she wears minimalistic make-up - a bit of mascara, a bit of lip gloss, and that's enough, or so she thinks. People around her call her Ginny, and Weasley, and she ignores them.

She's keeping an eye out for Thomas, of course.

[Thomas Taylor] So with the line Dress . . . isn't really dressy, but I would suggest the only holes in your clothes be artfully put there by some designer or another he is wearing his nice clothes, the ones that she bought him and the suit jacket he liberated for no better term. He had taken the precaution of putting on two nicotine patches, should starve off the worst of his need for smoking. A shower and the cleaning of teeth should have got rid of the stink of smoke from him. So it was more an endurance on how long he could hold out. He even had on his smart converse, still clean. He prayed they stayed that way as he had a habit of wrecking new clothes quickly.

He turns up, only slightly late a far better show than most other times he has arrived perhaps 5 minutes after he said, she sees him running across the road dodging traffic and even sliding over the front of a car as it pulled up at a red light landing lightly on his feet with a few looks from the crowd.

He nods and smiles at some people as he walks towards her manner and all he even gets a few second looks being actually well dressed for a change with no cigarette in hand. He had cufflinks on even, she might not realise it but this was ‘big’ for him. Morgan had started to get to know Thomas however and there was still some ‘common’ man in him. His shirt slightly ashew with the top two buttons undone, converse and not shoes and the fact he still had that swagger of his though that could be put down to confidence and it worked even now.

He comes up to her and smiles “Well ain’t you a vision pet, sorry ‘am late, bus broke down, guy said he ‘ad to wait until he fixed da motor, so got me jog on, just ‘round the corner.” He points in case she did not believe him. His face slightly flustered but not much, considering his smoking he was in remarkable shape...the advantages of youth.

[Morgan Lake] "You're not looking so bad yourself. And it's okay - I haven't been here that long." She'd gotten there about two minutes early, in fact, and tolerated smokers and remarks about her outfit (and her ass) remarkably well, all told; currently, it's possible that she smells more like a smoker than Thomas does. "There's a band tonight, that's why so early. Otherwise, we'd never get a seat. Hungry?"

There's a smile as she bumps his shoulder with hers briefly - quite possibly the only contact he'll get tonight, unless they dance or something. She touches him more now than she used to, but it's still a rare thing. She still hesitates first, and tenses ever so slightly when anyone - including him - reaches towards her.

Inside, it's already crowded but they're able to grab a table for two fairly close to the stage and the big cleared space that serves as dance floor. She orders a specialty cheeseburger with waffle fries and a pint of root beer, with the explanation that they make their own here, just like they do the beers, while the cute (perhaps better looking than Morgan, in her way) waitress flirts with Thomas and gets his order.

"I haven't actually heard this band before, but they get good reviews from people I usually agree with. So we'll see, yeah?"

[Thomas Taylor] “Pet, am famished, there a void in me belly, ‘arold don’t do nuthin’.” He does not mind the smell of smoke (Funny that) he also grins when she bumps shoulders though that whole touching thing was something he was getting use too which in its own way was weird. The fact that you can use to not trying to touch someone when you want to.

He looks about as they get in and it is now he realises he is not in his neck of the woods anymore. Still with a smile on his face and a grin he follows her to the table he is about to sit down then with a start like some unused brain cell had donated valuable information he moves to pull her seat out for her then takes his own. He stares at the menu as Morgan order, then to the waitress that tries it on he asks for what Morgan is having but with Ale if they have any, happy at the answer they do. He is polite with the waitress and has some banter but it is nothing flirty as Morgan would have realised it was just Thomas being Thomas. When he hands the menu to her his attention is immediately back on Morgan.

“Sounds robin Le Fay, ‘ope they ‘ave sum crackin’ dongs, do you know wat kinda music they play?” He looks about the place taking note of all the polo shirts, then the women (but never too long on the women) as he looks back to her “Pet, wats everyone doin’ in a polo shirt, it’s a bit camp ain’t it?” He is leaning over the table slightly voice low trying to be discreet.

[Morgan Lake] "College indie, I think, about how terrible it is to be twenty-five with a degree in Philosophy or something. But the guitar work's supposed to be good, and the drums phenomenal. So I guess we'll see. And the shirts . . ." She shrugs, looks around - clearly, it's nothing unusual to her. "I guess it's who's here. They're mostly smarter frat jocks - you can tell from the hats. Either the sport," he can see ones for swimming, hockey, track & cross country, just from where he sits, "or the frat is on them. It's almost like a uniform sometimes."

The girls have a little more leeway, but it's the same for them - very similar tops, skirts, jeans. Morgan sticks out for her choice in clothing that bucks the trend, as do a few others, but college hang outs are college hang outs, and certain places or acts attract certain crowds.

And there are, in fact, seven different kinds of ale to choose from.

"Music-wise, I'm betting on a bit acousti-punk, a bit post-grunge, a bit rock and roll. And company-wise . . . well, you have me? There's not much to recommend most people here. And I scoped it out - there's absolutely nothing to make this night go to hell. Or rather . . . there wasn't when I checked."

There's a brief furrow of her brow, then a shrug - if it does, it does, but she's fairly confident it won't.

[Thomas Taylor] He looks around as she points out uniforms “Well bugger me I thought that was all TV...” He looks around the place taking it in from a new perspective, her perspective. “Indie rock an roll for me pet, Stone roses are the bloody bomb pet, classic.” He clicks his fingers shoulder shaking to some unseen beat as he stops not wanting to embarrass her. An eyebrow rises “Jesus everyone is a soddin’ sheep ‘ere, wat ‘appened to takin’ sumthin’ an makin’ it yer own.” He winks and grins to Morgan “I like ‘ow you went unique pet, stand away from the crowd robin for you.”

At the music chooses he gets that roguish pout to his lips, the hollowness in his cheeks as his head sways from side to side very slowly “Sweet, we gonna rock that dance floor an show these...jock...it is jock right pet...” He carries on, he was sure he saw some movies like this “Well yeah show ‘im ‘ow it os done.”

As for the going to hell part he just shrugs looking at the furrow“Devils in the details pet, if it goes to gypsy we’ll just ‘ave to save the day again, that’s wat we do...” A confident wink and chuckle to Morgan. He was feeling a lot better now, closer to normal than he has in quite a few days as she was feeling no doubt very similar.

“Thanks for lettin’ me crash yer ice cream plans.”

[Morgan Lake] "Thanks for pulling me out of the house. Sometimes I get a little . . . overzealous, I guess. I like to learn, you know? And the more you learn, the further you can push, and it applies to every day," with a vague wave around them, implying 'mundane', "as much as it does to the less so. And yes, they're jocks. And you might be able to get me to dance - I don't know. I don't, usually; the other night was . . . different."

Of course it was. It was different for everyone.

Morgan is, indeed, feeling much better, much closer to herself, after the time that distances them both from what happened amongst the warehouses and such in Bronzeville. She looks it, too - less hollowed, less spent, and with that sparkle of intelligent life about her.

"There are people who do buck the trends - or who follow different ones than these, anyway. They just don't hang out here on a night that draws out the college preps. This is . . ." She smirks a bit, amused. "If most of the people I was friends with Before hadn't already left for their respective non-local colleges, they'd have fit right in. This is kind of who I was."

[Thomas Taylor] “Pet, yer just focused, thing is with focus is that it can drag you in then before you know it you ‘ave nuthin’ to focus for.” It might be true for her it might not he as always just peaks his mind. “I’ll bear that in mind then pet, but I gotta ask if you don’t dance, and the mojo was just in the club then why were you there? On yer todd, you must ‘ave been out for a reason?” Thomas had his moments this was one of them.

He grins “Yeah, I can see ya bein’ one of the popular ones in school pet, in all the cool groups, gettin’ all the cute boys bein’ the envy of the other chicks.” He says it so matter of factly yet does not make it sound like an insult. Still he does not push it, make a mountain out of a mole hill if she wanted to speak of her past she would.

“If sum of the old East London council estate crew cud see me now...” He sits back laughing “My word, mouths on floor, tongues waggin’ in the air...” He picks up his napkin and holds it in his hand a moment. “The things we leave behind pet, lemon moves on, wat is it they say lemon is the fire in which we burn an all that jazz.” He tries to fold the napkin back how it was but cannot manage it, and keeps trying to rearrange it like he had spoilt some artist masterpiece.

“Just be yerself, if they got a problem with wat ya wear, wat you do then it’s there bloody problem, thats me policy on it all.”

[Morgan Lake] "I was out to be out - even I need a break sometimes." That's with a smirk, amused. "I like the music, and it's not that I don't dance. It's just that I'm not very good at it, and have no desire to look like an idiot on the dance floor. There are plenty of other people to do that."

This is one of his moments and apparently it's one of hers, up until the mention of boys; her eyes shutter, but not quickly enough to hide the flicker of pain that crosses them. "As for boys, there was only one that mattered for a really long time. I mean, I had friends and there were probably other guys that liked me, but . . ." She shrugs, and it's not hard to see her as one of those girls with a long-time sweetheart even that young.

Then, though, as quickly as possible? There's putting it back on him. "What about you, Mister Cockney Charm? How many girls did you leave behind nursing broken hearts, hmm?"

[Thomas Taylor] He smiles as she talks about her night out, a small tilts to the right as he listens and accepts the napkin will just have to remain ruffled. As he talks about boys and it affects her he listens but lets it move on, he acts like he did not see anything, like she got away with it.

He puts a hand to his chest “Me...huh...” He taps the table, eyes looking around “I never really got into anything serious pet, too busy bein’ a pain in the ass for me bro, started wanderin’ wen I was 16, I mean there was a few but most forgot me, always use to piss me off but I was startin’ then, reality bendin’ to me will but without me knowin’, me gifts becomin’ common place.” He smiles, of a past that seemed long gone “...’ow do I say this, back where I cum from an not exactly top of the pile.” He raises his hand to about a foot off the table, then lowers it and lowers it again till his hand is but a few inches above it. “Not too smart, far too rough an poor, lived on a council estate too common for me own robin a a mouth that wud make the pope blush.” He laughs.

“I mean there were a few, but nuthin’ too serious, I was the one before the one if you get me, the bit of rough an tumble, the dirty lil’ secret.”

[Morgan Lake] The last descriptor gets a wrinkle of her nose - distaste, apparently. "That's hardly fair to you, the girl, or her 'one'. But if it works, I guess." Which is to say, apparently, if she hasn't told James about her time with him already, she will (she hasn't yet because that's not the kind of thing you text, but Thomas doesn't know that); Morgan's an honest sort, with no time for lying about ridiculous things like who she's slept with, particularly to people she cares about.

"I grew up on the Gold Coast. Not right on the water, but close enough. One of the old buildings, early 20th century charm and a doorman." He already knows her dad's a professor and her mom's in some kind of finance-business, but that's about it - and it's enough. There ends the current peek into her background, though it says considerable amounts about why she is the way she is. Or at least enough about that bit. "And I dated the same guy from seventh grade all the way through Halloween of our senior year."

She's a firm believer in serious relationships, it would seem.

[Thomas Taylor] “Well, they weren’t with the one at the lemon pet, it’s an expression, it’s like they got with me cos they wanted a fling before they went am found the real thing...you know. Bit of rough an tumble” He shrugs an acceptance. Of course Thomas knew James had been doing some similar things himself, so at the moment all bets were off and he had to guess that she/he knew and well that was that. He too was trying this friendship like she asked, but if the underdog could get the advantage then even better. He liked her, she liked him, but he wasn’t a fit.

As she tell him about herself he nods, it was all new to him, but sounded very fancy, with doormen even..wow. He listens in quiet wonder as she talks. “Wow, you two must ‘ave luved each other very much pet.” He does not go into any further. He was a hollow one even he had a flair for romance. She had talked about her past relationships a little bit before and knowing she would not want to dwell on it he takes the initiative and moves the conversation on. "Wow, gold coast, I 'ave no idea were that is but sounds lush pet." There drinks are finally brought out, obviously the bar is very busy as the waitress puts there drinks down with a polite smile to Morgan and a generous smile to Tom before walking off.

"But none of me past matter any more, or thats wat I tell meself pet, am awake now, things are different, like the other night we saved sum folk, none of me boys back in London can understand that, they don't see the light an dark or muddle through the grey...all missus an kids an jobs an nine to bloody five..." A more light-hearted chuckle. "'ere I am, a cockney wanderer, the world me frog, savin' a lil' bit of humanity where I can..." He has a sip of his ale "Nice"

[Morgan Lake] "Doesn't matter if they were with their one at the time or not," she says with a shrug, and that's her last on that; the bit about how much she and the ex must have loved each other gets an expression that's an odd mix of emotions - it's brief, but it's there to be read in her face that's so honest and closed at the same time - hurt, sadness, anger and yes, love. She had loved him very much, whoever he is.

"Anyway. Gold Coast's up at the other end of the Mile, most of it's right on the water but it dips in a mile or two as well, in some places. On the water it's modern high rises, mostly, both commercial and residential, but further in it's the remnants of the turn of the century's elite homes. Pretty lush, yeah."

Drinks are set out and there's promise given that the food will follow soon.

"Bits of my past matter, just for having been part of what's made me who I am so far. But most of it, yeah, you're right. It doesn't matter." She feels the same way about most of humanity, honestly, though she doesn't say so; Sleepers are less than the other Traditions, even. "Hey, they're starting. Listen."

And the band isn't bad, even - not as great as the reviewers who raved about them would have people believe, but far from terrible. Eventually food comes and they can eat, and what they do from there? Well, Morgan's here to relax a bit. She's not got a whole lot of plans for what happens, other than eating and listening to music.

[Thomas Taylor] Again he does not dwell on anything that seems to make her uncomfortable, he watches her face when he speaks of her boyfriend and wonders if he could have put it more tactfully. He listens with interest about the Gold Coast and where she grew.

“Well pet the past matters but so does the future, lemon pushes us on we grow, that’s life.” He was hoping for a new start in Chicago, if not here he could easy wander around America his will would force him too if he could not settle.

Then the band start and the food gets laid out, he eats with careful, well portioned bites. He pauses enjoys and does his best to show manners and etiquette mimicking her if needs be. Until there left listening to some indie, Thomas foot tapping on the floor as he looks over to her. “You don’t ‘ave to pet, an it’s robin if you say no, there ain’t no mojo in the air makin’ ya but do you wanna dance.” He saw some of the jocks moving with their women, and they were young, the crowd was young if not a few years older than them

He feels torn, there was a distance imaginary or otherwise now, he felt it from her, do friends dance, and would it really be fair to dance since at the moment he perhaps hoped for something more. Thomas kicks it all aside and sticks with his question to her, self doubt helped no man.

[Morgan Lake] She's thoughtful for a moment, looking at him, then shrugs. "Alright. But you'll have to forgive me if I step on your toes." It's an easy thing to stand, to make her way from their table to the floor, closer to the front, and it's hardly the sort of music it takes a lot of skill to dance to. If one can bounce and has at least a vague sense of rhythm, it'll do, even for the slower songs.

"I don't think I'll be rushing out to buy a CD or anything," she calls over the noise around them, "but they aren't bad. Kind of like that band you were listening to at the gym . . . not in sound or whatever, but I feel kind of the same way."

And then, the slowest song they've heard yet comes on, and Morgan looks awkward for a moment - dancing to the faster stuff had been one thing, and now . . . well, she's only ever slow danced with two people. One of them is out of the picture (though Thomas doesn't yet know how far out of the picture) and the other is a shadow on its edge. "I feel like I should find you a pretty girl to dance with or something. The flirty waitress, maybe."

Though she's making no move to do so, and in fact sways where she is, an eyebrow raised up at him.

[Thomas Taylor] He grins when she says yes and they have to work there way too the dance floor. Indeed it is more energy too it than most of what they have experienced so far. He laugh with her when speaking about the CD “They got sum charm pet, non commercial, gotta give ‘im cred for that.”

Then the slow song, Tom looks around a moment as well. She looks awkward. They had not touched at the moment, they had no need too, he is about to suggest they sit back down then she says that.

[i] "I feel like I should find you a pretty girl to dance with or something. The flirty waitress, maybe."[i/]

He makes a face a touch of annoyance there perhaps speaking quietly “Pet, your beautiful, more so then you give yerself credit for. If I was interested in the waitress or sumshit, ‘ad ‘ave made me move earlier, I ain’t ‘ere with ‘er am ‘ere with you.” He scowls a moment, furrows on his brow even with her swaying the need to dance was leaving him. Then with no warning he steps into her taking her hand in his, one around her hips to her lower back as he pulls her in close.

“You can kick me ass afterwards, am ‘avin this one at least, if yer knickers are in a twist you can pull away an make a scene ladies prerogative, but this ones for Tommy.” He waits, expecting the spine shiver, the tension, the face and a stiff puppet to move around with him until she can get away.

[Morgan Lake] There is the spine shiver, the tension, but not a stiff puppet - she's not that bad of a dancer, even if she does step on his toes a time or two in the process. It's the surprise in her face that's most obvious, though; his annoyance, his reaction, his pulling her in like so had all been unexpected. It's not until almost halfway through the song that she relaxes enough to put her hands up on his shoulders, to move so they don't look like twelve-year-olds at their first school dance.

"I'm not going to kick your ass. You'd have me flat on mine in a second, anyway." It's vaguely amused as discomfort drifts away little by little. She stays very proper, but she also stays with him, dancing slow and close with the other couples around them. "And I knew you were here with me. I just didn't know you were here with me, all . . . I don't know."

[Thomas Taylor] He knew she was not a bad dancer; there was still the club where they danced inspired by the magic perhaps but still ability. Half away though the song when she relaxes is when he puts his other hand on her hip so both were there now. In a slow dance you do not have to be good, just enjoy who your with.

“Of course I was ‘ere with ya...” She had lost him a little bit there, why did she think he was here? Was this some sign he was meant to pick up on, was this a cold sign, was this some warning that he had already lost out?

He jokes a moment “Course, you know I called every other red headed girl I knew, but the rest were busy so I ‘ad to settle for you, course am ere with you pet, wat ever yer with means...” A smile as he rests his chin on her head lightly, no groping, no kissing no even PG touching, Thomas was keeping it all above board. Though he does miss the freedom of the club, or the PI office or whatever else it took for her to lighten up a touch...he will have to find that switch.

[Morgan Lake] That switch is a difficult thing to find; even Morgan doesn't know what flips it, quite honestly. It confuses her when it happens, but then, she doesn't really like the way she is when the gates are closed, either. The focus, the drive, yes, she likes those things - but she doesn't like not trusting even people she wants to think of as friends (or maybe more, in some cases), doesn't like being so far removed that something so small as a hand on her shoulder gets her as stiff as a board if it's not from the one or two trusted people she has left.

"I'll . . . explain it later, maybe. It doesn't matter."

There's a moment, and then, for the last verse and chorus of the song, she moves close enough that they're touching at more than just his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders - her hands move down so arms can slip around his waist, and she rests her head on his chest, just there, so his chin can stay where it is. The song ends, shifts into a faster one, and she still doesn't pull away but stays, lightly against him.

"All those other redheads are missing out, you know. I feel greedy, keeping you to myself."

[Thomas Taylor] If she ever finds the switch he’d like to know. Still she talks in riddles, but a lot of women did, even those that he was not attracted too. He knew it was most likely to do with James, and to push any further into it would cause a mood swing or other bad things so when she moves closer (Of her own accord no less) he decides that silence is golden on that topic.

“Le Fay, perhaps then you sud send ‘round a memo, was a bit of a fib, I don’t know any other red ‘eads.” His body is warm and as she leans against him she can hear his heart beat, strong and steady but perhaps faster than at standing. He did after all have an attractive woman in his arms.

So he will hold her for as long as she lets him, faster song be damned

[Morgan Lake] She'd been teasing, of course - whether or not he knows any other redheads hardly matters. "Is this a date, then?" But it's idly curious more than anything else; she's not pushing for labels, but figures knowing his thoughts on the matter could well prove useful. And she lets him hold her close for the rest of the set, which is only another two songs, before pulling away and nodding towards the table. "Another drink?"

From there, there's little talk of consequence, and a good time had until it's time to leave . . . at which point she offers a ride home so as to avoid public transport, but doesn't press it if he refuses. It's a good night, all told.