Natasha R. (
latrodectus) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2012-09-05 01:31 pm
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Entry tags:
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WHO: Gil (
invoking) & Natasha (
latrodectus)
WHERE: A nice but somewhat bland business luncheon establishment.
WHEN: Some ordinary weekday afternoon.
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: Gil and Natasha have an Awkward Business Lunch.
FORMAT: Whatever.
Natasha was enigmatic by nature and by design; maybe that was why she'd decided to take Gil to lunch.
It was a very beige affair, this restaurant, with heavy cream curtains and a light touch of gilding to the chairs. The tables were spaced wide enough for talking and the waiter (who called himself Mark) wore a black vest with a suitably pastel tie. Without glancing at the menu, Natasha could tell the food would be competent, but lacking in imagination.
Business as usual.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
WHERE: A nice but somewhat bland business luncheon establishment.
WHEN: Some ordinary weekday afternoon.
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: Gil and Natasha have an Awkward Business Lunch.
FORMAT: Whatever.
Natasha was enigmatic by nature and by design; maybe that was why she'd decided to take Gil to lunch.
It was a very beige affair, this restaurant, with heavy cream curtains and a light touch of gilding to the chairs. The tables were spaced wide enough for talking and the waiter (who called himself Mark) wore a black vest with a suitably pastel tie. Without glancing at the menu, Natasha could tell the food would be competent, but lacking in imagination.
Business as usual.
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That was interesting to her, his ability to accept orders that didn't agree with him. If the doctor told her to stay in bed and rest, she'd get up and walk out. Most people she knew would get up and walk out. Something about risking your life for a living, laughing in the face of danger.
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His good shoulder sank and his gaze drifted past Natasha, lost in his own little world for a fleeting moment. Finally, he blinked and returned to reality to answer her question.
"I... I guess?" Gil realized he must have sounded as conflicted as he looked. "I've never had health problems from smoking," he added, honest.
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That was all boring, though. Things stuck in the past that should stay there. She wondered what it was that caused Gilbert to lose his focus— but she didn't ask. Not yet.
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"Compared to some, not really." He had picked it up because of Oscar. What a terrible mistake. "Have you ever...?"
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White cigarettes, with long black holders. She smoked them in opera gloves, her shoulders trimmed with mink. Natasha didn't regard those days with fondness, but she could not muster for them the warmth of regret.
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"May I ask you something? If it's not out of line." It felt like a bold move on his part, so he watched for her reaction.
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He shifted in his seat slightly, a touch hesitant before he finally came out with it: "Are you from this country? In your world, that is." He observed the room briefly at that point. Americans were strange to him.
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"No?" Her red hair reminded him of Rufus Barma and his lineage; a foreign dukedom that emerged in his country not too long after they had left theirs. "Where are you from originally?"
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Her lips set in a grim line, and for once she forgot to change the subject.
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"Oh." Evidently at a loss at what to switch the subject to. "I see."
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He leaned back in his chair, looking rather sheepish. "No... it might not exist in my world at all. The same for this country."
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If the answer was something like Oz, she'd have to recalibrate.
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Yet the question stirred something inside his chest, whether he knew it or not.
"Usually I reside within a city called Reveille," he said.
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"Wake up," Natasha says. Quietly, like an echo.
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"Sorry?" He shook his head. Must have been spacing out.
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When the wine was tasted and deemed satisfactory, Natasha angled back towards Gil. "I've always found it can be terribly lonely."
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"It's not something I thought of much," he admitted. "But this city is still strange in many ways for me. Even the air here is thicker than I can remember back in my world..."
He ignored the comment about it being lonely. That was something he felt should be kept to himself and not bother her with.
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This was something they kept out of the textbooks she read when she was a little girl. But there was always a price for progress, and that is something the textbooks taught very well.
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"I've read a little about that." He didn't comprehend everything and only got the gist of it, really. "Something about it affecting the weather?"
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And here, L.A. was meant to be a crater. That was a pity. Natasha didn't mind leaving at the time; in those restless days she was always craving a change of scenery. What irony, to get stuck here now when she was somewhere close to settled.
"If you go to the middle of this country the skies get bigger. The air gets different."
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