I Have Heard Every Line Imaginable About Tall Women (Stefan)

[Rhea Hartman]

Rhea was going out.

Not in uniform, not to the gym, not even to play basketball. Out, on a Thursday evening, to her favorite restaurant wearing her favorite heels and the leggings that made her ass look like it deserved its own moon. October had been an unbelievably shitty month, and her coworker Celeste had talked her into a few hours of self-care. Going out alone had not sounded appealing at first, but as Rhea finished the last few bites of her dinner she was glad she'd come. It felt good to get dressed up for no reason besides herself, and it would feel good to go home alone, take a long bath, and watch some TV.

Rhea owned enough clothes for a whole family, despite (or because of) the fact that she never wore anything but uniforms and workout clothes. But when she pulled out the nylons she did it with an exclamation point. Gold-painted eyes, a short, loose shirt that flaunted the terracotta landscape of her arms and stomach, and pumps that topped her off at six and a half feet. Hardly her everyday wear, but that was the point. It was hard to throw a pity party in four inch heels. Rhea was already feeling better than she had that afternoon, and she reminded herself to thank Celeste as the bartender cleared her plate and she picked up the dessert menu.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan held the belief that every evening was a good evening to go out. The only times he couldn't be found at one of the bars in the are after quitting time was when he was going to a party elsewhere or if he was too sick to make it out the front door.

He'd gotten off a little earlier than usual that day and been drinking heavier than usual in celebration. So by this time he'd already lost his cane, been kicked out of one bar for propositioning the bar tender repeatedly, and his clothing was starting to look a bit ruffled. Still he was holding himself together well, only stumbling when he tried to move too fast. And his speech was fairly understandable as long as he talked slower.

He'd arrived at this particular bar not too long ago. He'd spent the time so far securing a drink and scanning the crowd for potential companions. He noticed someone who caught his eye fiddling with their dessert menu. So after making sure his drink was refilled, Stefan made his way to where they were sitting.

"Know what's on that menu? Me-n-u," Stefan said, helping himself to a seat beside the fine-looking young man. And yes, Stefan thought this person in nylons and heels was a guy. Perhaps he was a bit more drunk than he thought.

[Rhea Hartman]

"What?" Rhea looked up from the selection of cheesecakes. Her eyes met a very well-dressed man, with hair streaked with silver, a meticulously scruffy beard, and alcohol steaming out of his pores. It took her a moment to realize that the anemic wordplay was a pickup line. Great. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her menu. "Keep moving, cowboy. I'm not interested."

Drunk men hit on Rhea a lot. She had learned to be direct.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan had reached his 'drunk enough that he saw things as he wanted them to be instead of how they really were' stage. And usually about this time he started having selective hearing as well. Meaning all that he got from the great looking man was that he had been called a cowboy. Which Stefan decided to take as a compliment.

"Cowboy huh?" Stefan said, his eyebrows dancing. "Does that mean you'd like to be my ride?" Stefan could also be a bit direct.

As he waited for his reply, he dragged his chair a bit closer to his new friend so that he could reach out to lay his hand on the handsome man's thigh.

[Rhea Hartman]

"No." The single word was punctuated with all the flat displeasure that two dark, heavy-lidded eyes could deliver. She was determined not to let this drunk loser ruin her evening, and she still expected him to slink off when he finally realized he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Get lost." And since insults just encouraged them, she returned to her menu with every intention of ignoring him.

Then there was the screech as he dragged his chair over and made what he surely thought was a suave, seductive play for physical intimacy. Rhea swatted his hand away. "Do not touch me," she said slowly, clearly, and obviously starting to get annoyed. She could smell his breath from here. "For the last time, piss off."