capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Daken and Selina.
WHERE: An art gallery.
WHEN: Monday night?
WARNINGS: I don't know shit about art galleries
SUMMARY: How not to act upon discovering that someone doesn't remember you.
FORMAT: quick?

[An art show is a good place for an aesthete to pass a little time, both for the show itself and the ever self-conscious Manhattanites. Daken shows up to the gallery in Ferragamo, the sleeves of his jacket pushed up over his tattoo. Two people ask him if he's an artist himself, as a means of icebreaking. One of them looks like an Ivy League boy, with intelligent green eyes and a little too much cologne for Daken's nose.

But under the miasma of that cologne and Chanel No. 5 and paint and wine, between the wandering crowd, there's something familiar, and even as he talks about the art and the city, evading questions he doesn't want to answer, he realizes that he's staring at someone else. She's graceful and athletic, distinctive without exoticism. Her back is to him. He watches her for a second before excusing himself from his conversation.

The closer he gets, the surer he is that it's her. She came back to the City without bothering to tell him. But how typically Selina: she had mastered casual disinterest, like a cat flicks its tail and looks away, knowing it's being watched.

He comes up behind her.]

Weren't you going to say hello?

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Then all the luck in the world to you. [ She smirks against the rim of her glass. ] I'm sure you'll need it.

[For a second he's genuinely injured, and indignation flickers over his features. Why the fuck would he need it? No one's better at finding people who don't want to be found than he is.

But then, of course she'd doubt him, after what he pulled with the apartment fire.

He smiles again.]

You know, if I thought you'd be up for it, I'd make you a bet.

[ Oh she sees that indignation from her prodding, the only response she gives is the slight raise of her brows, as though surprised. ]

Now, now, don't be too hasty. I like a little wager every now and then.

[ Especially if she thinks the odds are in her favor. ]

[Perfect answer.]

Good. If I find Ra's by September first, you have to come out with me one night.

[There's no downside for him, of course; naming all the terms oneself isn't as fun.]

[ It doesn't seem too terrible of a fate. He's attractive enough, interesting enough... she wonders what happened between them previously. ]

And if you don't... [ It's a bit difficult to pick out something appropriate when she doesn't know anything about him. ] Well, I'll keep that a secret.

Deal.

[It's not as if he has a reputation for strict promise-keeping to ruin if her secret turns out to be too much.]

Japanese or French?

French.

[ So far, this seems like a win-win situation, but then she's been wrong before (once or twice). ]

But I wouldn't go making any reservations.