capeandcowllogs | A constellation of tears on your lashes

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A constellation of tears on your lashes

WHO: Roy Harper & Laura Kinney
WHERE: Dallas BBQ Restaurant
WHEN: Friday night
WARNINGS: Discussion of non-con/abuse.
SUMMARY: Roy takes Laura on an ill-planned date and talking happens.
FORMAT: Tagger's choice.

Their brief encounter at the auction left Roy with more questions than answers about Laura, though one thing seemed certain: she didn't at all strike him as the roller rink type. It took a little thought, but he'd come up with the barbecue place as an alternative, figuring that there would be good food and tasty frozen drinks, and if they decided to go elsewhere after dinner, it would be a fine preamble.

He'd arranged to pick her up at 8pm and had arrived casually dressed in jeans and a plain red teeshirt. He seemed laid back, much like the establishment. It was busy, but not overwhelming, with the smokey scent of babyback ribs wafting through the air and the laughter of college kids tipsy off daiquiris filling the room. It was fun, and Roy sincerely hoped it would translate to his evening with Laura.

"You gotta try this one drink they've got," he said, pointing to the list of frozen options on the menu. "It's called Miami Vice. It tastes like how being on a vacation feels."

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She just watched silently as he unlocked the door, almost as if she were grading him for his progress, but said nothing when he finished, just nodding in appreciation at the open door.

The music really was shockingly loud, and she stopped just inside the room itself, waiting for him to enter and close the door before she made a move towards the crowd.

She turned as if she were going to ask him something, but could he even hear her? So instead she just motioned towards the dance floor to see if that was what he wished to do.

The music was loud and it had a nice beat to it, and all Roy wanted to do now was dance. He once again offered his hand to Laura and led her through the crush of bodies to a spot on the dance floor. He wasn't a bad dancer by any means, and he wasn't afraid to show off a bit, mostly in hopes of getting Laura to relax and maybe eventually crack a smile for him.

All the while, he was not so secretly admiring Laura as they danced, appreciating the way she moved to the music and how every now and then the neon lights would hit her just so that her eyes seemed to glow.

And despite trying to keep to themselves, they seemed to be attracting a bit of attention. More than once, other women tried to cut in and steal Roy away. He wasn't exactly sure why, he wasn't that good of a dancer. But nonetheless, they kept trying to force their way in and cast Laura aside. It was starting to seem like every time he and Laura would step apart for a second or two, another person would try to replace her, and quite frankly, Roy was having none of it.

Laura liked to dance, when she actually managed to do it. There was a certain freedom to it, and a certain anonymous freedom in a club like this, with so many people around, with the dark, with the lights flashing and the music too loud to talk. It didn't matter who you were, what you did, you were just another figure in the mass.

And she could dance, once she settled into a rhythem. And Roy wasn't bad either, she decided as she watched him. Or tried to watch him, since every time she moved far enough away she could see, a woman wound up slipping between them until Roy pushed her away.

It was strange at first, but by the fifth or sixth time it was just frustrating...she wasn't possessive (Roy did smell sort of...oddly appealing...) but they were obviously dancing together.

So the seventh time it happened, a pretty, airheaded blonde girl got growled at by Laura, a deep, feral sound that sent her darting away with a little shriek of surprise.

"Hey!" Roy was almost as startled as the other woman was, now expecting such a low, possessive sound from Laura, though he was quite frankly, just as annoyed as she was at all this random attention. Maybe it was time to take a break and get away from his scores of admirers and regroup. He put an arm around Laura's waist to guide her from the dance floor toward an open table across the club. It would be quieter the further they were from the floor, and they could get drinks and everything would be cool again.

"You're a regular Ginger Rogers," he said with a cheeky smirk, arm still around her. He wasn't trying to invade her personal space, but it was pretty much impossible not to, with all the bodies packed in there like sardines. Besides, he was clearly there with Laura. This was a date. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to show her off a little. She was hot, and he was damn lucky to be out with her.

Roy's shout drew Laura up short at least, the frustration vanishing from her face, but before she could say anything he was leading her off the dance floor. She hadn't realized she'd gotten that bad, frankly, but thinking back she really had just growled at that girl. Well, she didn't feel bad about it, anyway.

"Thank you," she said to the compliment once they were out enough that she was sure he could hear again, sinking down into a chair with a sigh, her green eyes focused on him.

"You are certainly popular."

"Yeah, about that..." He trailed off, shrugging. It had been a little more than what he was used to, but Roy had always had an easy way with women. He knew he was good looking, and he projected confidence and a kind of attitude that seemed to pull people in. Women liked being around him and he liked being around them, that was nothing new. But he'd never seen anything quite like that happen on a dance floor, not when he was obviously dancing with someone else. "I got the moves like Jagger. You know how it is."

That earned him a raised eyebrow and no other comment, folding her arms on the edge of the table as she looked back over at the crowd, considering the people. From what she saw, girls weren't doing that to other people. Just Roy.

"Do you really think it was simply your ability to dance?" She finally asked as her gaze shifted back to him. What was that smell...

"What else could it be?" He was genuinely perplexed. He hadn't done anything different, he was just being his normal self. He couldn't help it if certain other patrons of the club were charmed by him.

But he didn't want Laura to dwell on it, so he gave her a friendly clap on the forearm and stood up again. "You want a drink? A coke or something?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. Whatever it was, assuming it wasn't just a strange coincidence, she didn't know enough to speculate one way or another.

She just nodded at his offer, turning her gaze back to the dance floor speculatively.

Roy returned to their table a minute or so later with two sodas in hand, and he studied Laura carefully for a moment before taking his seat across from her. She still seemed so out of place there, amongst all the other laughing and happy people, and he just couldn't figure out why. He placed one of the glasses before her, still watching her watch the crowd.

"Are you having a good time or have I bored you to tears yet." It wasn't exactly a question. Roy was assuming he already knew the answer.

She didn't look over until he spoke, though she was aware he was there, she was just still watching the people still. When he finally spoke she turned back, picking up her soda and taking a sip.

"...Yes," she finally said, her head tilted to the side as she thought it over. And then she seemed to realize that answer wasn't much use. "I am having fun." She really was, actually.

He wasn't sure if he believed her or not, and he didn't want her to think she had to be fake or pretend. But the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that if she were miserable, she would have either left by now or told him so. Laura didn't have to be here, he reminded himself, and that reminder seemed to snap him out of his own funk.

"Could be that those other chicks were jealous of you, Laura." Roy grinned teasingly. "Can't blame them though, right? I mean, if you dance like Ginger, I must be Fred Astaire."

"Maybe," she agreed, but she still wasn't certain. Those same girls weren't out there doing it to other people...one of them was still eying Roy from the edge of the dance floor, in fact.

But she forced herself to focus on him, and then she smiled faintly. "If they were jealous of me, they would have made more of an attempt when you rejected them." Which she had done, which felt sort of nice.

Why was dating so hard?

It was probably hard because she didn't seem to know what she was doing. And that was okay. Everyone has to learn to walk before they can run. To be fair, none of Roy's past dating experiences were making this date any easier for him. Laura wasn't at all like the women he usually went out with, or at least she didn't necessarily present that way. She wasn't loud. She wasn't dominating. And unlike Donna (the woman of his past who broke the trend) she wasn't overtly sweet natured. She was different, and he liked that.

"Either way, you scared them off, sweetheart."

She frowned slightly at that, remembering his reaction to her growl, and especially how easily the woman had basically fled when she had done it.

"I was frustrated," she finally explained. "And it stopped her."

"If it were some guy doing it to you, I'd have punched him out." Okay, maybe not quite, but words would have been exchanged. Roy shrugged a little. "I wouldn't have danced with any of them anyway."

That made her hesitate. "Even if I was not here?" They had seemed pretty enough.

"Maybe," he admitted, then added quickly, "But I wouldn't have come without you."

"Hmm," she wasn't sure if she believed him. "Okay. It doesn't matter."

She looked around, then back to him. "I haven't been out in a long time. It's...relaxing." Even with the music and the growling at people.

It was okay if she didn't believe him. It was probably only half a truth anyway. He might have gone out still, might have hit on a girl or two and asked them to dance. But that wasn't what he was there for, so what did it matter?

"A pretty girl like you? I find that hard to believe." Another half truth. He meant the compliment, but he could tell she didn't get out much, even if she hadn't said so or given him glimpses of her old life. "Hey, how old are you anyway?"

"Most of my time is taken by managing the Dojo," was her excuse for not going out. Mostly she was bad at it, so she avoided it. Missions were easy, real life was not.

"I am nineteen, why?"

"Just checking." He tried not to look as relieved as he felt. When she'd mentioned needing a fake ID, his mind had made all sorts of leaps it really shouldn't have. And now it was making mental calculations, just to be on the safe side. What was half his age plus seven anyways? "I was worried I might be too old for you."

"Hmm," age was kind of an odd thing to Laura. Prostitution had blurred a lot of those lines, even while it had made some of them...unpleasant. And she had spent so much time away from society she didn't care about a lot of the other distinctions.

"...How old are you?"

"Twenty-four." He didn't feel like he was that old. Would she think that was too old? Why did he even care so much? It's not like they were doing anything besides dancing. Right?

She just nodded as if that was about what she had guessed, and it didn't matter to her at all. The last person she had dated had been in his early twenties.

"Do you wish to dance again?"

Edited 2013-04-22 00:01 (UTC)

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