IT'S TOO LATE TO LOGAGIZE

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WHO: RIDDLAH (enigmaestro) and WHOEVAH (insineration)
WHERE: whatever the City equivalent of Jean Georges is, which is apparently Jean Georges! Jean Gorges?
WHEN: Some night last weekend because I suck, shortly before eight!
WARNINGS: Lust is going to eat a live turkey after snapping its neck herself you heard it here first.
SUMMARY: Two people who don't like each other very much but have a lifelong duty to get up in each other's shit go out to dinner at a disgustingly fancy restaurant to catch up, which probably translates to sniping at each other a lot! At least it's not an Urban Outfitters or a Renn Faire. Or is it.
FORMAT: parafailure

She'd scoped out the location beforehand, of course, which had not been been slightly unsettling to the other clientele! (Spoilers: no.) Still, she'd prefer to meet him outside than wait on him inside; it gave Lust the peculiar and rather uncomfortable feeling of being set up. So there she was, dressed up in a way that was formal enough not to be out of place and casual enough, hopefully, to keep from giving him any ideas about her intentions. Not that there was really any need for that, of course. If nothing else, he was an extremely intelligent man.

Comments

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Despite playing his entrance a few minutes earlier than usual, he found her waiting for him. Outside. She wanted a level playing field, he noted, an angle to rob him of any early cheats. It was almost unsporting.

Edward greeted her with a smile, and a wave of a hand that drifted languidly. He made no pretense of physical contact -- he knew the idea as suicide.

"Don't you look lovely?" Eddie led the way inside, confident in his reservations. "This is going to be so much fun."

The levity of his tone hardly matched the razor of his smile.

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"Is it?"

Lust followed him in, careful not to trail too far behind while maintaining a respectable distance between the two of them. For 1915. Oh yeah.

"I suppose it must be, for one of us." Her tone of voice should register as cool, as it generally was in conversations with Edward Nygma, but laced with some definite amusement. "Don't get your hopes up, though."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"My hopes take no heed of your words," he said with a smirk and another glance. He offered to move her chair for her, wearing the facade of a gentleman quite easily. Their waiter dripped by, asking for drinks.

"Ladies first," Eddie offered with a lazy sway of his hand. He took the time to enjoy watching Lust, knowing how unnerving (or at least, annoying) the attention would be.

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Lust smiled politely at the waiter, despite, of course, internally rather wanting to stab both him and Eddie. But most of that was reflex; after all, he did such a good job at putting her on edge.

"Water is fine," she said, her voice somewhere between warm and apologetic.

She flipped open a menu with one gloved hand and transferred her gaze from the waiter's face to the entrees without so much as a sideways glance at the man sitting across from her, scanning it passively until and even after Eddie made whatever his order might happen to be. An smile curved across her face as the waiter walked off, almost innocuous. Almost.

"Now," she said, her eyes flicking upwards, "what exactly are we going to talk about? You can choose first, if you want. I know how much you enjoy it."