Dinner at Julie Ann's [Darryl]

[Clarisse Prideaux]

When Clarisse had said it wasn’t a far walk to East Main, it had been the truth. Yet somehow, in her nerves, she had still managed to get lost. Lost in the clouds (as she sometimes got, despite her normally level-headed attitude), she had taken a left where she should have taken a right and walked to nearly the opposite side of Pilot Ridge before she’d realized she was going the wrong way. When she finally did make it to Julie Ann’s Bistro, it was almost seven o’clock. While she didn’t expect Darryl to be on time (she was sure he ran on theatre time) she was still slightly nervous about shaving it so close.

“May I use your restroom?” she inquired breathlessly to the host of the bistro, who nodded her in the direction of the ladies’ room. Clarisse shuffled off in the general direction of his apathetic head nod, surprisingly nimble in her three inch heels (for having come so far already). When she reached the restroom, she locked the door behind her and gripped the sink tightly. Her nerves were running out of control for no apparent reason. Why in God’s name was she so nervous? She glared at herself levelly in the mirror and shook her head at her own reflection. Perhaps it was just the fact that Darryl was so collected and Clarisse was so…not…

Having moved her hand slightly forward on the sink, Clarisse didn’t realize how nervous she was until the soap dispenser snapped off in her hand. Gasping and jumping, Clarisse scrambled to reattach it. Heart rate up, Clarisse moaned in dismay. This was ridiculous. She was into her thirties now, and there was no reason to get so nervous over a date. Taking a moment to clear her mind and take a deep breath, Clarisse managed to slow down her heart rate enough that she wouldn’t break anything else for the evening.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, the clicking of her grey high-heels was much more assured than before. She informed the host she was waiting for someone, and he sat her at a table near one of the large windows. It was precisely seven o’clock, and Clarisse watched the street wistfully out the window, a gentle smile on her lips as she picked at the hem of her sage green dress.

[Darryl Bond]

Darryl had been aware of what day it was since he had first woken up in the morning. It was pretty exciting to know he had a date---or a meeting to continue the conversation they had begun over coffee--that afternoon, when he hadn't (really) had that sort of thing in quite some time. Darryl wasn't too keen on that either, dates were fun he missed dates, which had him all the more excited about this (not) one. However, you can't get ready for a date more than three hours before it was scheduled because it was just weird, so he had spent the day working over grading his classes papers and staring at the clock. He really didn't get much work done.

However, when he hit the two-hour-until mark, he happily sprung from the couch to get ready. He showered, shaved his face (because who shaves in the morning when it grows like weeds and wants it to look nice later?), and blow dried his hair. No, he wasn't above drying it with a hand held leaf blower; it saved him time and his hair looked--and felt--better when he dried it this way. He plopped a beige fedora upon his head as he slid a dark dinner jacket on his shoulders. Even though the place wasn't all that fancy, he could easily see Clarisse dressing the part of...well something fancy. In heels (smiley face).

Once his nice shoes were fixated upon his feet and there was a belt in his belt loops, he was out the door. He swung his keys around his finger for the duration of the walk to the florist---yes, Darryl was a flower sort of guy. He always liked his dates to feel appreciated, and beautiful. Clarisse, especially, was beautiful and Darryl had almost gone 'all out' with this certain selection. Now, when I said Darryl was a flower guy, I wasn't joking. He was that old age romantic that knew all the proper meanings, and what the symbolized. For instance, one may like an Orange Mock, but you never give it in a bouquet because it means deceit, and unless the person you are giving it to doesn't know the message, or just loves Orange Marks then you should know your stuff. Most florists know the meanings, though some tend to with hold that information, seeing that half the male population just doesn't give a shit. Darryl had picked the bouquet out himself, though he left the design to the florist: Oleander, for grace and beauty; Oak-leaf Geranium, for friendship; Pink Heather, for good luck; and Convolvulus, for humble perseverance (but when is Darryl ever humble? When he picked up the flowers from the girl at the counter, she sighed wistfully as she walked away and he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. If that teenager had a boyfriend that knew the meanings of flowers like he did, he was either gay, or too old for her. He felt the need to tell her that, but that would make him late for the date.

He checked the clock on his phone every couple of steps, to see that he had actually aimed everything at the right time, and he would get there on time. If he had turned left instead of right. It was a simple mistake, but when he was three blocks out of his way, he knew he'd fall behind. He would have ran, to make up for the time, but the flowers would ruin, and so would his hair. He did walk quickly, however, and while some one watching him could easily see he was on his way to a date, someone might mistake his fast walk as a need for a bathroom.

When he arrived at the Bistro he was exactly four minutes and thirteen seconds late. He glanced around the place once before he spotted his gorgeous coworker at the window. A relieved yet forced sigh escaped him as he walked over to her, he smiled in greeting. "I'm so sorry I'm late, I took a wrong turn." It was a silly excuse, but it had really happened. He then held out the flowers to her like the corny man he was, a fresh smile on his face. "And these are for you, because, well, it's what you deserve." He smiled a little more as he sat down and rearranged the placement in front of him, even though he eventually put everything back to where it was originally. Nervous much?

"I hope you have been good?" He asked while he looked from the menu up to her. When he had suggested they eat here, he hadn't made the connection that she was french and a bistro was a watered down French restaurant. He had just liked this place and he hoped that she didn't think he was trying to be clever, because Darryl didn't think that way of it.

(quick reference: flowers: Oleander, Oak-leaf Geranium, Pink Heather, and Convolvulus
meanings of those flowers taken from here)

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse could do nothing but stare blankly at Darryl when he did walk through the door (perfectly timed, as her foot had just begun tapping nervously). Not only did he look smashing in his outfit, but he was holding an intricate and beautiful bouquet of flowers. Clarisse could feel a blush creep to her cheeks already. She stood to greet him when he approached her, smiling warmly in welcome. “No its fine. I got lost too.” Wistfully chuckling, she gingerly took the flowers from him, cradling them like one would a tiny child. “At least you’re here in one piece. And with flowers no less.” She didn’t seem to know what to do for a moment. Normally she would have hugged Darryl, kissed his cheek, and sat back down…but she was overwhelmed with the bouquet in her arms. Her heart fluttered with girlish glee and she just chuckled again, laying the flowers gingerly in the windowsill and taking her seat again.

Nodding slowly, her own nervousness apparent in her sudden sigh. “Yes.” She said, nodding quickly. “Yes I’ve been well.” She said, shrugging one shoulder and gesturing vaguely. “Nothing particularly exciting, I’m afraid.” Clarisse added, trying to think back on her week to find anything interesting to talk about. Anything at all. She wasn’t doing so hot. Her job wasn’t anything of particular fascination to most. While she, as a woman of science, was fascinated by the medical and social implications of her work, it tended to fly over the heads of her coworkers and friends. Heaven forbid she bored Darryl to death. Grasping for more threads of conversation, Clarisse picked up the menu to stall. “Do you know what is good to eat here?” She asked, peeking at him over her menu before turning her green eyes to the page.

She drew back, slightly surprised for a moment. As her eyes scanned the words, she saw familiar dishes. Bouillabase, Cassoulet, Coq Au Vin… “This is a French restaurant?” She asked, smiling vaguely up at him, her menu dipping slightly. She wasn’t sure if he’d done it on purpose, but if he had it was very sweet. Clarisse loved to cook, but she couldn’t always get the same memories out of her own food as she could in a restaurant.

[Darryl Bond]

The blush that came to life on her cheeks was beautiful, just as she was herself. He was glad that his flowers caused such a reaction. She took them in earnest and he smiled a little more softly. "I had actually timed my arrival correctly, however I hadn't planned to take a wrong turn." He looked sideways a bit embarrassed of himself, but she didn't seem to mind at all. He normally would also have hugged and or kissed her cheek upon his arrival, but he was also a bit flustered himself. Clarisse, as a whole, was something he'd never gone on a date with; beautiful, meta, and a doctor (nurse--same thing).

"I am glad to hear it," he replied to her being good, though he wasn't sure how to take the 'nothing too exciting' thing. Was that the truth, or was she just saying that because she didn't think he'd follow along with her science-y stuff? He probably wouldn't, to be honest, but if she wanted to talk about it, he'd be fine with listening and trying to grasp what she was saying. As he looked at the menu, he wouldn't know what anything was if not for the little italicized description of what the dish was. And to that he was thankful. He'd look like an idiot if he had to ask the waiter or Clarrisse herself what anything was. From what he saw, the Coq au vin looked good, though they weren't really in season for stew. As she asked him what as good, he gave a little shrug.

"This is actually my first time here. Your guess is as good as mine." Well, actually it was probably better than his, but that was besides the point. He grinned a little as she discovered what sort of restaurant it was and he nodded, "Though honestly I had just wanted to try this place out. I got lucky, I suppose." He grinned a bit and looked back down at the menu. He decided the Coq au vin was what looked the best to him so that's what he'd go for, he closed the menu and folded his hands on the table.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse laughed a bit and shrugged. “Makes two of us, sir.” She said light heartedly, waving her hand. “To be frank, being on time is an American concept.” She waved her hand a bit before absently laying it over his, more of a comforting gesture than anything affectionate. “If we were in France…” she shrugged. “Hours would pass before we’d get anything done.” Clarisse finished with a laugh, returning her hand to her lap.

She sat up slightly in her seat when Darryl confessed it was his first time at this restaurant. Not that she was disappointed, just surprised. She’d never asked anyone to dinner at a place she’d never been…granted she’d only ever asked her husband to dinner when they were married. Her nose wrinkled for a split second; here she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think of him tonight. Whoops. She shrugged a bit again. “Well it’ll be a surprise then!” she said excitedly, shutting her menu as well and setting it down. Fondly she ran her fingers of the menu cover, smiling distantly.

“Cassoulet is one of my favorite dishes…I haven’t had any other but my own in so long!” She said, divulging her menu choice as she tried to strike up some conversation. “Do you eat much French food, Darryl?” Clarisse inquired gently, looking at her flowers again and smiling.

[Darryl Bond]

"Is that so?" Darryl asked, both amused and intrigued by this. He hadn't heard such a notion before, and was quite pleased to know about it. "I shall use that in the future then." He grinned, so when someone asked why he was late, he could just tell them he was international. Or something like that. He might not, but it was still amusing to think about.

Darryl usually wouldn't have inflicted an foodplace that he'd never been before on a date of his, but from what he'd heard of the place, it was a quaint little place that had good service. And Darryl had been wanting to try it, but going to eat somewhere by himself was a depressing thought. And, he figured that since the place was even around that it got good business. Small town shops worked like that. "So it shall." Darryl agreed with her and shut his own menu and folded his hands on top of it.

"Then I'm glad to give you the chance to." Darryl replied, he could tell she too the initiative to start the conversation, which he was more than happy with. Darryl himself wasn't terribly sure how to start the conversation off. "No, actually. I am much more of an Italian eater. Pasta is delicious and easy for me to make." Yes, Darryl lived alone, but he knew how to cook...some things. He once had a roommate in college that taught him some tips on making good food that was cheap, and impressive to make. Stir-fry was something Darryl had perfected over the years. Women loved a man that cooked, ya see.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

“You didn’t know that?” She asked, laughing a bit and readjusting her silverware nervously. “I thought it was a big joke in the states how Europeans can’t be on time for anything.” Clarisse shrugged. “Almost a decade and I still don’t understand.” For once, Clarisse didn’t care much that she’d aged herself. Like all women, she was conscious of growing older but there was a certain point where it just wasn’t worth worrying about anymore. Darryl obviously didn’t care, so why bother?

Clarisse nodded slowly when Darryl divulged his taste in food. Well…not so much taste, but his prowess. Clarisse could understand only eating what you could cook, but she herself liked to adventure in the culinary arts. There was so much to explore! So many flavors, so little time. She smiled though and leaned slightly on the table. “Do you have a specialty?” She inquired, curious as to how far Darryl’s skills extended.

[OoC: AUGHBLECHK. Short! T-T I’m sorry]

[Darryl Bond]

"It was a joke no one decided to tell me, then." Darryl smiled with a small chuckle. "Oh don't worry, I was born here, and I'll tell you, it doesn't get much easier at understanding." Truthfully, too many people were from different places with too many differences. He hadn't been to that many places, but from the ones he has been too, they have never been the same, even remotely so. Moving from the South to Vermont wasn't much of a culture shock for him, but when he moved to California...it was a hard transition to make. He was sure the same went for Clarisse when she came from France, though he was hardly the experienced traveler, of the two of them.

It wasn't just that he could make pasta, but it was also a good in-between place to go on a date. Not everyone was a fan of hot spicy Mexican food, and a lot of people wouldn't want to go on a date to a Chinese eatery (that Darryl had gone on dates with), but Italian had things for everyone. With his date history, he felt much more secure going to such an establishment with a girl he knew little about than going to a different national restaurant. Just as well, he liked Italian food and it was much cheaper for him to make than something else--and didn't require a lot in the department of ingredients. However, once he got a vegetable and spice garden growing (which he hoped to have ready by next season) it would widen his repertoire. "Stir-fry, I have been told, is what I am best at. Shrimp, chicken, or both." He answered her, with a not too humble smile. "I usually stick the things that can be made in a skillet, or other stove-top things. I stay away from baking, I'd rather not set something on fire," he openly admitted. Besides, if one invested in a crock pot and had a grill, then the oven wasn't needed (unless one wanted to make a cake, which Darryl refused to make on his own). "How about yourself? I imagine you are a fantastic cook."

[Clarisse Prideaux]

“Isn’t it though?” Clarisse agreed emphatically, fanning herself slightly. “Eight years and I still haven’t heard every accent in the country.” She mused, shaking her head. Frenchmen had their slightly varying accents, but Americans…It was alike a new language every five or so states! Granted, her only experience was with the students from other areas of the country, but all the same…it was a remarkable thing to see.

Her smile widened as a waiter served a table near them. The food looked positively amazing. Clarisse’s stomach churned in greedy anticipation, absently she laid her stomach over it and tilted her head at Darryl. “Stir fry? Really?” Clarisse didn’t have much experience making that dish, but she couldn’t say she didn’t like to eat it! Frankly, she liked to eat everything, food was such a charming was to learn a culture. “That’s impressive. So many things in one pan.” She made a jumbled gesture with her hands. “I’d burn it all.”

Clarisse laughed good naturedly. “Obviously, we are opposites. I can bake for an army, but if you want me to make a good soup or sauce.” She made a face. “Well I wouldn’t eat it.” Clarisse leaned her chin on her hand. “Maybe I can teach you to make cookies and you can teach me how to stir fry?” She offered, innocently emboldened by his admission of being a baking failure.

[Darryl Bond]

"There certainly are a lot of them," Darryl commented with a soft chuckle. The South alone had over six different accents. He was pretty sure he could imitate the vast majority of the accents across the united States, though it seemed everyday he heard a new one. The internet accent he'd been hearing his students use was intriguing, but he'd done little to actually learn it, it seemed extremely silly.

The server at the nearby table, caught Darryl's attention as well as he was also hungry. The food did look marvelous and he was excited and eager to get to work on his food--once the waiter took their order anyway. He smiled a little as his cooking talent seemed to impress her, and as she said as much, he chuckled a little. "Now I think if I can manage it, you could as well. The secret is to keep the skillet moving," he mimed with his hand before he folded it back where it was.

Clarisse's observation of them was accurate. Darryl was just too afraid of the oven to give it a chance, he liked cooking things on the stove top, because he could easily keep an eye on them, and most of the things he made didn't take two years to make. He was good at the grill, only because he grew up looking through his father's elbow at steaks and that knowledge just seemed to cling to him. "I'll look forward to it," Darryl grinned like a fool at the idea of the two of them moving about his kitchen throwing things together. His image was distracted, however at the appearance of the waiter, finally. Darryl was polite as let Clarisse order what she wanted first--in his date history, he found it better to do that than order for the lady, most women found that demeaning and controlling--two things Darryl was not--once Clarisse had told the man what she wanted, he ordered for himself and thanked the waiter as he hurried off to get their drinks and put the order in. "I'm excited to try it," Darryl admitted as he rubbed his hands together.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse pursed her lips and shook her head. “I highly disagree.” She flailed her hands back and forth in a surprisingly silly gesture, then giggled a bit. “Weak wrists.” Leaning daintily on the table, Clarisse heaved a bit of a sigh. “I’m really hopeless when it comes to things like that.” She shrugged. “But if you’re there to coach me, I’m sure things will end up just fine!” she chirped, giggling a bit again.

Ordering quietly to the waiter, so as not to disturb conversation, Clarisse handed over her menu. “So besides cooking something in an oven, what else would you like to try?” Clarisse asked, gesturing vaguely as she tried to pull out the proper words from the air. “What is on your--- oh what do that call it?--“ She squinted a bit. “Bucket list!” she finally chimed, snapping her fingers in triumph. “What’s on your bucket list?”

OoC:: Bleh short T_T ::X

[Darryl Bond]

At her flailing gesture, Darryl stiffled a surprised laugh, and covered his mouth with his hand to further keep his reaction under wraps. His smile was fighting his face muscles but after a moment he seemed to regain control of himself. "Now I doubt that," and not just because her power was super-strength, but because skillets were not heavy (were they?). However, Darryl liked the idea of teaching her..."Then it's settled. You'll teach me to bake, and I'll teach you to fry." He grinned, proud of the way this evening had started. Now, of course, he just had to keep it up.

Darryl was about to suggest 'to-do list' but she had pulled the actual word she was looking for before he intervened. "Ah, well I have always wanted to become fluent in another language--I've just not had the time or the resources." He stroked his chin while he thought of other things on his bucket list. "Sky diving, ever since my brother told me about his experience. Oh, I've always fancied goimg hunting but never quite had the guts to do it." Darryl admitted honestly. He also wanted to build and keep alive a wonderfully elaborte garden, but that would remain his little secret. "And eventually I figure it'd be quite nice to have a family." However, Darryl was having too much fun being a 'free' adult to think about such commitment and responsibility now. That would come after he crossed several things off his 'list'.

"And you my dear?" He asked as his hands folded underneath his chin, his elbows balanced on the corner of the table as he leaned forward in interest. He liked learning things of this sort about his dates--and people in general--because these little wants and wishes really set everyone as individuals. Entire crowds didn't fancy every jumping out of the back of a plane.

(Holy crap. I am so sorry! I totally hadn't seen your post, it got swallowed! I feel sooooo bad ;_;)

[Clarisse Prideaux]

“Deal.” Clarisse said with a nod. It did sound nice…particularly if Darryl had a larger kitchen than Clarisse did. Her home was tiny enough, nevermind her shoebox of a kitchen. The oven took up most of the space. She listened with earnest interest to his bucket list, smiling warmly. She did laugh a bit at the first on his list though.

“Sky Diving! What is it with the men at Hammel and sky diving?” She asked, laughing and shaking her head. “Mister Collier…Adam? He Sky Dives. Maybe you can make it happen?” Clarisse suggested. Adam had mentioned wanting to take her to jump out of planes, but Clarisse still really wasn’t to hyped about it. She sighed at his final bullet: a family. What she wouldn’t give for one of those again.

“Me?” She said, looking a bit forlorn. The mention of a family had reminded her what a dream everything had been in France, at least for a little bit. She wrinkled her nose and focused her attention back on Darryl. “I’ve always wanted to perform on stage. I love to dance.” She murmured. “Other than that…I’m quite content with my life. Children are…” She tapped her lips. Did she really want to share this? “They’re fairly out of the question for me, biologically. Too dangerous.” Clarisse said with finality, hoping Darryl wouldn’t want to delve into it.

[Darryl Bond]

Darryl was certainly looking forward to this cooking date. Not only because it is more time the two of them would spend together, but also because Darryl generally liked learning new things, especially things that would later come in handy. He wondered whose house it would happen at. Darryl didn't exactly want to brag, but his kitchen was well equipped and on the larger side.

Darryl had a general look of surprise at her mention of men at Hammel. There were sky divers among his coworkers? His thoughts of seeking out this person were successfully put out when she mentioned who that person was. Adam was definitely a sore spot, still. Their man's night out a few nights ago was OK....but Darryl's ego was still a little sore from it. Waking up cuddling a bisexual man, and not remembering half the night before just well...scared Darryl. He kept his face controlled through his reminiscing, though. "Hmm. I may just ask him when I see him again." It was a slip of the tongue, really. Darryl hoped she didn't catch it.

She looked...sad almost. Darryl tried to figure out exactly what had saddened her, but he had learned a while back that women were almost impossible to understand. Something was just always lost in translation between the two genders. However, at her mention of the stage, Darryl broke out into a grin. "Dance? I never would have guessed." He decided not to mention how much he would enjoy a performance. "There is nothing quite like performing in front of an audience." He decided, then, that he'd get Clarisse up on stage, somehow. It would take more planning before he even clued her in on it, though. As a nice surprise.

He nodded his head slowly as she mentioned children. That must have been what had made her sad. "I am sorry to hear that. There is always adoption, though?" Darryl really didn't have his heart or mind set on children for at least another ten years.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Slip of the tongue or no, it sounded innocent enough to Clarisse. Then again, she never really did jump to the conclusion that people were drunk cuddling when “seeing” one another, so Darryl’s secret was fairly safe. At least so long as no one else spilled the beans.

She shrugged. “Most people don’t guess. I’m not very…loud? about it.” She explained. Her take-up of the Dance Team was probably about as vocal as she’d ever be about her love of performance. That would be enough for her anyway. “No, I suppose not.” She mused. She didn’t really do it for the attention. She just loved it so much, she wanted to share it with everyone else. “But for me…its just about me.” Clarisse smiled. “I mean I love to share, but I’m just as happy dancing alone in the rehearsal room as I am in front of an audience or with a partner.” She sighed wistfully. She tilted her head. “Do you feel that way about acting?” Clarisse grinned with a bit of mischief. “or is it all about attention for you?”

Clarisse looked down at her lap and shrugged half-heartedly. “Adoption…I suppose.” She would
have adopted Gui…but that hadn’t worked out in her favor. And honestly, she had the selfish desire for her own children. She loved all children, but those from her own flesh and blood; they were miracles.