birthright_rpg | Best Laid Plans

Entry tags:

devin,
julianna

Best Laid Plans

Julianna decided on seafood instead of steak when she and Devin finally got to arrange their dinner plans, and she'd dressed casually because she didn't want the writer jumping to conclusions about this evening. Yes, she found him attractive, and she'd like to get to know him better, but the 'maybe' column wasn't a terrible place to occupy.

The hostess had already seated her, and she sipped at the beverage she'd taken the liberty of ordering while she waited. She'd slept alone after the event at the Skylark because she'd sent Nathan home after a fairly intense make-out session on her couch. He'd grumbled, but he'd left accordingly.

The Watcher picked up the spoon where it rested to the right of her place setting, examined it critically. One could never tell whether or not the flatware would be completely clean. She had a very slight knot of tension in her stomach, one she had yet to really acknowledge.

Bugger that. This was just dinner, testing the waters. She could live with the results either way.

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Devin didn't own going out clothes, and he didn't care about buying any. He had warned Julianna that he wasn't the fancy restaurant type. He pulled up in his Honda, letting the valet take over.

Shit. It was a place that had valet parking.

The writer entered the restaurant, dressed in a plain black t-shirt, dark brown leather jacket, and the one pair of jeans without any holes in them. He was directed over to her table.

"Hey," Devin greeted her, pulling out the opposite chair. There was already water poured for him, so he took a sip. "Sorry, traffic."

"That's perfectly fine," Julianna answered, offering a slight smile. "I was worried I was going to be late myself, since I took a nap after arriving home and slept too long."

He hadn't shaved, but the scruff suited him in an odd way. It made him look rakish. She wondered what beard rash would feel like. None of that!

"I haven't ordered yet since I didn't want to start without you." Two menus in imitation leather covers had been provided when she sat down, and she picked one up and flipped it open. The prices were a bit high, but she wasn't shy about covering the tab for dinner. She could write it off as a business expense.

"Would you like wine or beer with dinner?"

He scanned the menu. He was a picky eater who grew up not being allowed to be. Big family necessitated big, cheaply made meals and if he didn't like them, he was SOL.

"Hey, I like wine. A red is good." Devin folded the menu shut and set it down.

"So what have you been up to besides languaging?"

"Oh, this and that," the Englishwoman replied easily. "Just rented a nice flat in a complex not too far from the campus. They have a jogging trail and an exercise room, so I'll be able to get back to my fitness regimen now that I'm settled."

The waiter came back, and she asked for two glasses of red wine. She wanted a clear head tonight, and that meant nothing stronger, even with food.

"I'm going to have the stone crabs, but would you like to share an appetizer? If you care for stuffed mushrooms, they're quite good."

"Well, that's admirable. My fitness regimen consists mostly of running to the gas station for a burrito." Devin smiled and tapped his finger against the menu.

"Yeah, that's cool. I'm leaning toward the fish and chips. You eat that in Britain, right?"

For some reason, he enjoyed feigning ignorance. He had actually visited Britain on a trek across Europe. The dish was his best bet, he knew that from experience.

"We do. English food is a bit soggy, but we like it."

When the server went away again, Julianna took a sip of her water and asked, "How's the writing coming along? I understand the second attempt at writing a novel can be more difficult than the first, if only because of the expectations you place on yourself. I hope your creative muse is being cooperative."

He drank his wine, nodding. Vague classical-style music filled the dining room; he couldn't identify any composition he knew. "Um, it's going good. I rented a trailer, got tired of motel living. The quiet helps me concentrate."

Devin leaned back in his chair, taking in his surroundings. It was the type of place his parents would go on their anniversary.

"Plus, I heard there was a dead body found at the Kay. I stayed at the El Rey, but still. I'm not taking any chances."

Edited 2013-09-25 00:01 (UTC)

"Yes, it made the newspaper," the Watcher said. She'd read the brief article with consternation, noting that exsanguination had been listed as the cause of death, with unusual marks found on the neck of the victim. Not that vampire attacks were unheard of in secluded locations, but it was troublesome knowledge.

"It's why I was glad to get out of that hotel. Not because of anything unpleasant, but because it's nice to have my own space again. It helps me think when I'm trying to work."

The wine was an interesting combination of tangy and sweet, and Julianna watched it swirl around in her glass as she examined the dark liquid under the lights. "Where did you live before Nevada? The tourist traffic in this city means that they don't seem to have many permanent residents. Where did you call home before you put down stakes in Searchlight?"

"Yeah," he said, suppressing a shudder, "I wouldn't really call it putting down stakes. It's a six month lease."

Devin caught his reflection in his spoon, and made an attempt to smooth down his hair. "I'm from Indiana, but I've bounced around a lot. New York for a few months, um, California. Venice Beach was awesome. Shady, sometimes, but awesome."

He grabbed a roll from the basket.

Edited 2013-09-25 01:13 (UTC)

Commitment issues. She recognized the sudden twitchiness. The way he patted at his hair was adorable.

"I've seen a bit of America, but never this far out west. I bought a coffee table book of photographs of the desert. They look lonely and beautiful."

The mushrooms arrived, and Julianna waited for Devin to take one first. "Did you come from a military family? Is that why you moved around so much? Or was it a case of wanderlust as you got older?"

He kind of felt like he was being interviewed, but he didn't say so. He put one of the mushrooms on his appetizer plate.

"When I was published, I had the excuse I needed to break away, so I did. I like to travel. The idea of waking up in the same place every single day, doing the same job, it's not really for me."

Devin spread butter over his bread. "What about you? Did you come here with family, or...?"

Edited 2013-09-25 01:51 (UTC)

"No, actually. My parents traveled extensively in Europe and the Far East, but the closest they got to America was a brief stopover in New York back in the nineteen fifties. I'm afraid they were a bit provincial in their thinking, didn't care for the States."

Julianna let the silence hang between them while she buttered a piece of bread and took a bite of it. The sound of her own voice wasn't so important to her that she had to prattle at him every second. She didn't want to be reduced to saying whatever inane thing that popped into her head.

"Sounds as if you came from a close family," she said once she felt a decent length of time had passed. "I was born last, the youngest of four, so I understand that feeling of wanting to break free."

Devin laughed, sampling the stuffed mushroom. "No, I mean, with husband, children, et cetera?"

He raised his eyebrows, washing the appetizer down with some more wine. "Too close, sometimes. But you know how it goes." He shrugged out of his jacket.

"Do you ever slum it?"

"Ah, right. No, I never married." She showed him her left hand, the lack of a wedding ring. It was the only time she'd ever gone against Mother's wishes, a symbolic rebellion. "I was an intellectual in a time that profoundly did not favor women, and I didn't see the need for a husband. I can never decide if that makes me cold or not."

Julianna ate more bread, picked up a mushroom. "And I suppose it depends on what you mean by 'slum it'," she said in a more neutral voice. It sounded faintly provocative, and she wanted to keep her mind out of the gutter tonight.

"I like to relax as much as the next person, the stereotype of the fuddy-duddy professor aside. You might have to be more specific about what you mean."

"I mean, do you ever eat in a restaurant that doesn't have a tablecloth? Have you ever been camping? Gotten your hands dirty?"

Devin switched from wine to water. "Don't see how that makes you cold. I'm definitely not the marrying type, either." He had one serious relationship, once, that was seemingly headed in that direction, and he completely flaked, and invented imaginary conflicts to justify ending it.

Does fieldwork count?

"I have roughed it in the past, yes," Julianna said. "I spent three months in the Austrailian outback to gather information for a paper I was writing. I toured Cairo and Rome when I was much younger, where I stayed in a youth hostel that didn't have hot water for showers. I've hiked, camped, spent time in the wilderness. I don't always sleep in a comfortable bed."

She also had a weakness for intelligent artistic types, but the times she'd spent with various struggling writers, actors, and painters wasn't a topic for conversation just yet. That clearly wasn't the type of 'slumming it' Devin meant. She would have to test the waters more before she could broach that subject.

"I won't deny that as I get older I enjoy my comforts, but I've been known to make do with less."

Their orders arrived, and the Watcher pushed her bread plate to the side to make room. "I hope they prepared your fish the way you like it," she told the writer. "I chose this place because it got good reviews, but I've never actually been here."

"I think there's pretty much just one way to do fish and chips," he replied.

"Comfort is subjective to me. I can get used to most things after a long enough period. When I got kicked out of school, I lost routine. And you know what, I enjoyed it."

Devin shrugged, eating a French fry. "I've seen what years of hard labor can do to a person, and I don't want that. Why should I break my back now for some bleak prospect of retirement?"

"Why indeed?"

She found herself reflecting on what sort of home life Devin must have had that led him to being kicked out of school. Delinquency wasn't unknown to her, but it was learned behavior rather than something that came naturally. Had it been an unstable environment for him?

"Teaching isn't really hard labor," she offered as she tucked into her meal. "It's challenging sometimes, but a true educator gets over the hurdles in order to impart knowledge." The food passed muster for her, and she nodded to herself as she drank another sip of wine.

"Not that there aren't incompetents within the field, even at university level. If people were allowed to learn at their own pace, usually starting when they're still young, dissatisfaction with the educational system would be less common."

He really didn't want to talk about education. Nor did he want to get lost in his own swirl of thoughts or memories. Getting expelled was only the beginning of a sequence of events that nearly mentally unraveled him.

Devin ate a piece of his fish, dipping it in the tartar sauce.

"Hey." His eyes darted around them. No one walking by their table."

"Have you ever played the Penis Game?"

Edited 2013-09-25 07:30 (UTC)

"I'm...I'm sorry?"

Julianna had a forkful of her dinner halfway to her mouth when Devin asked the question, and her hand froze as what he'd said really sank in. Was that supposed to be some sort of come-on? And if not, would it be wrong for her to be disappointed?

She very carefully put the fork down, sorted out her thoughts so she didn't say something crude in response. So much for keeping her mind out of the gutter. "I'm afraid I don't know what the...Penis Game...is." Good, she'd said the word 'penis' without giggling. Sixty years old and giggling. Good God.

"How do you play it?"

"It's easy. We take turns saying the word penis, but each time you say it has to be a little bit louder than the last. Whoever says it the loudest wins."

Devin finished his glass of wine and set it back on the table.

"Unless you're too classy for that." He was daring her.

She should be offended. She knew she should be offended. Offended, annoyed, scandalized. She wasn't even tipsy, much less drunk. She toyed with her spoon, picked up her water glass and took a drink.

"Penis."

It was a whisper, and this time she couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up. She covered her mouth to stifle it, tried to force her expression to sober. The corners of her mouth twitched in defiance.

"Your turn."

Devin felt a little sorry for her. She didn't realize what she was getting into. He would never eat here again, he'd never have to see these people again. Standing up and shouting it didn't scare him.

"Penis." His tone was above a whisper, as if he were having a quiet, subdued conversation.

A woman at the table next to them glanced over, not quite sure what she had just heard.

Edited 2013-09-25 09:45 (UTC)

"Penis."

She didn't have to eat here again. She could have been anyone. They didn't know she was usually a responsible, buttoned-down college professor. They certainly didn't know she was a Watcher. Besides, he'd offered her a challenge.

The woman at the closest table looked over again. Julianna ignored the attention, rested one elbow on the table top so she could put her chin in her hand. One eyebrow lifted.

All right. He could up the ante.

He stretched, arms lifting a little. A waiter walked by their table. As if he were commenting on the weather, he spoke in his clear, normal register. "Penis."

The tray in the waiter's hands nearly toppled.

She stifled the urge to laugh at the clatter of dishes on the tray, watched the waiter fumble around to assure himself that nothing would spill, saw him head back towards the kitchen while throwing a look at their table over his shoulder.

"Penis," she said, her accent crisp as she raised her voice just a bit. The woman at the next table was gawping at them, No, Julianna would never eat here again.

He watched as the waiter exchanged some words with the hostess. He knew exactly what they looks they were shooting his way meant.

One last hurrah.

"Penis!" Devin said it loud enough for the people across the restaurant to hear. The writer grabbed his jacket as the hostess stalked over to them.

"Yeah, we're out of here," he told Julianna.

"I'm right behind you."

Julianna dropped some cash on the table to pay for their half-eaten dinners so they wouldn't call the police on them for dining and dashing, snagged her light jacket from the back of her chair. The laughter was still threatening.

"Penis!" she barked as she bypassed the fuming hostess. She was determined not to let Devin have the last word. "Don't come back or I'm calling the cops!" the hostess yelled.

Outside, she shrugged into her jacket before digging her keys out of her pocket. She and the writer were in the parking lot before she said, "If I made you uncomfortable by bringing you here, I apologize. I should have suggested something less formal."

Devin could not have imagined anything more hilarious than watching a well-bred, British woman in pearls yelling the word 'penis' to a bewildered hostess.

"No, it turned out...not how I expected."

He handed his ticket to the valet, who was eyeing both him and Julianna warily.

"Did you tip?"

"I always tip. I'm English, I can't help it."

The fact that she hadn't finished her meal meant she was still hungry, and Julianna looked at her watch. It wasn't that late. The valet was going to get Devin's car. She cleared her throat.

"Would you like to go get a burger? I'm famished."

He raised his eyebrows. "You want a burger?" Devin shrugged. "Okay."

The writer tipped the valet when he brought the blue car around. "How do we do this? Go in my car and I'll drive you back here?" He had a pretty good idea of where to go. He knew this burger joint that had picnic tables, and it was a nice night to eat outside.

No tablecloth required.

"That sounds wonderful. I don't have a class until the afternoon, so I don't have to worry about getting to bed at a decent hour."

Julianna approached the Civic on the passenger side, waited for Devin to unlock the door. No need for him to open it for her since she didn't stand on ceremony that often. Even if she was old enough to be his mother.

When she was in the car, she fastened her seat belt out of habit. The night was clear and calm. She was going to get some dinner no matter what, damn it.

He turned down the radio, kicking an empty Burger King cup under his seat before she could see it. Devin put the car in drive. One of his surprising talents was an affinity for directions, and he knew exactly where to go.

"So, um," he glanced into the rear view mirror, then at her. "Did you ever think you would be shouting like that in a restaurant?"

"Not a bit. I did it because you surprised me. I've never been able to resist a challenge."

She was looking out the window when she said it, watching the buildings flow past. For once, she didn't feel the need to make extraneous conversation. The slight knot was still there, and she reluctantly acknowledged it.

"I like this car," she said, going for inanity to keep the moment light. "I finally broke down and bought a vehicle of my own when I got tired of renting."

"Well, wheels are pretty much necessary around here." He stopped at a red light, drumming his fingers on the leather steering wheel. "I didn't have a car in New York City, too much hassle. I walk a lot around Searchlight, though."

Devin sensed something inarticulate. "Listen, uh," he scratched awkwardly at his chin.

"I'm not really -- "

"Hmm?"

She looked over at him because she heard the tone in his voice, and the knot expanded before contracting. She flattened her hands on the legs of her slacks, examined the backs of them in the dim light from the dashboard. The Watcher cleared her throat again.

"Speak your mind, Devin," she said quietly. "I'd rather you did."

Devin rubbed at his eyes. He sucked at this. Majorly.

"When I agreed to go to dinner with you, it was as a friend. I mean, you're smart, obviously, refined, worldly." He gripped the wheel. "But I'm more...well."

The writer shrugged. "I see you as a friend."

Bugger.

Julianna's stomach tightened with the disappointment of it, and she continued to study the backs of her hands. She let it sink in, felt it, dealt with it.

"Well," she said, lifting her gaze to look through the windshield. "I can't say I'm not disappointed. I had hoped you'd be attracted. I fancied finding out what it would be like to take you to bed."

She smiled a bit. "But. I'm not crushed. I'd rather you be honest and turn me down before I get attached than tell me a lie because you think you need to make me feel feminine. I'm too old for those sort of games."

Well, she was forward. Devin turned up the radio a little, then punched it off completely. "I figured you'd rather me be upfront about it." They pulled in front of the burger stand and he cut the ignition.

"Anyway. Here we are."

The writer smiled awkwardly, caught his reflection in the mirror, and immediately stopped.

Well, at least this way no one's feelings got hurt. Julianna caught the smile, then the way he buried it.

"Devin. Don't look like that. I"m sixty years old. I've been knocked back before. If all you want is friendship, I'm agreeable. I think you're intelligent and interesting and I'd still like to help you with research for your next book. I'm not the type to push."

She would enjoy the rest of this evening as the beginning of a budding friendship, and if he happened to kiss her on the cheek at the end of it as a companionable gesture, she would accept it for what it was, savor it while it lasted, then find a way to turn off her attraction. If she didn't turn it off, they couldn't be friends because she'd make him uncomfortable. This was where compartmentalization came in handy.

"Come on, let's get some real food. I'm sure this place doesn't mind if their customers occasionally raise their voices."

Edited 2013-09-26 19:49 (UTC)

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Best Laid Plans

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