[What is she doing? What the fuck is she doing? She doesn't have an answer for herself as she debates for the millionth time just leaving. She has her phone in her hand, thumb hovering over the contact -- but in the end, Ryder groans at herself and puts it back into her pocket.
Then she takes it out again to look herself over in the camera app, makes some miserable sort of whimper-grumble, and puts it away. Fine. Fine!! She looks weird and uncomfortable and is probably not at all pretty or cute or anything, but it wasn't like that mattered at all. The person she's meeting isn't really there out of interest in her. She's paying him to see her. Humiliating. ...And it wasn't like that, either! The only reason she tried to put on a nicer top and do her makeup at all was so she might fit the setting a little better. She didn't realize that she'd feel so out of place no matter what, ruining any attempt she had at making herself a little more tolerable to talk to. That was the real reason for all this.]
Waste of money, [she mumbles to herself, finger-combing her hair down over her face. She didn't even have all much money to waste, after being fired again for not being a good fit or having a bad attitude, whatever. As she looks around before pushing her way into the restaurant, Ryder forces herself to accept it. She's so terrible at finding a way to be good company that she has to pay someone to be around her...because as much as she hates to admit it, she's lonely as fuck. She just...needs someone to look at her while they talk to her. Someone to validate the thought that she's still alive besides the voice of her mother over the phone.]
[As she's led to a table, horrified to find it's somewhere in the middle, apparently, Ryder wonders if she'd rather be the first to arrive and get settled, or for the escort guy already be there... Awh fuck, and she should've used a fake name. People don't use their actual fucking names for this shit! Stupid, stupid!]
[He's taken up a lot of odd jobs over the years. Much as he prefers to be in a kitchen, sometimes it just doesn't work out that way in the given town. He's run deliveries, worked out of his car, gotten into some light construction duty, even dabbled with hooking a laptop up to every free wi-fi source he could get for some good old modern remote work. Whatever puts gas in his car and, even better, lets him rent out from a place. Whatever work that works, that's what he's up for.
The suggestion to get into escorting had initially made him laugh. But then he thought about it. He wasn't amazing, but he was decent-looking, he thought. He knew the rules for phrasing things and not talking to cops, and he both and enjoyed and was fairly good at sex-- Though it's been clarified he wouldn't necessarily be doing that, he got the implication that it was fairly often unofficially a part of the deal. Conversation... well, he was friendly. He liked conversation. Sure, he probably wouldn't be making friends in this sort of position but he wouldn't be entirely lonely. So, hey, win-win, right? He went for it.
Plus the pay was fantastic.
Today, he's meeting a woman named Ryder Morris. He's not allowed to dress like a punk according to the service he's with unless it's specifically okayed, and not as a first meeting thing. They're higher-end and he has to act like it, even if it's the most hysterically laughable part of this whole gig. But, he does his best to play the part; a dark shirt with a bit of a neck dive but not too much, a tailored suit jacket instead of his usual patchy sort, hair pulled back just a little in a half-pony. He's still painting his nails black.
He shows up early because that's the thing to do and also because he's not supposed to ruin the dazzling image with his car and that means walking a little ways to make him exactly on time. He tries to be subtle in admiring the restaurant so he looks like someone who belongs there and not like he's eager to scan the menu and compare metaphorical notes. He asks the name of his client, he's led along, and there she is, barely settled into her seat. He does wish they weren't in the middle of the room, but hey.]
Miss Morris? [He holds out a hand to her and flashes a wide smile.] It's nice to meet you. My name's-- [Just say it. Just say the damn full name. Mmmmmaaa--] Teo. Teo Garcia. [Fuck. Whatever. Saves him from being called Matt.]
[She sees the hands first, not lifting her gaze high enough to look anyone in the face, god forbid. For a split second, her unease slows -- a man...with painted nails. It wasn't the most unusual thing these days, but definitely still stood out. And that's a good thing! Generally speaking, she'd trust a guy with painted nails over one without.
And then he speaks and his words send an instant, almost crunchy shiver through her. Miss Morris. Gross. Well, it's her mom's name, so maybe not gross, but definitely not something that suited her. That suits this entire meeting then, huh? She grimaces before remembering that her face isn't just something she sees in her mind's eye, but actually visible to this man, as well as the barely lingering host or waiter -- how the fuck did it work in places like this? Was this the same person she talked to just a minute ago? Jesus. She can't tell. Fuck this place. Never mind that this is solely on her.]
Um. [Her eyes flick to restaurant employee extra, as she's decided to have them named in the credits of this scene, and it's hard to say whether she looks more panicked or hostile. What were they going to think about the fact that the person she's out to dinner with is introducing himself and calling her "Miss"? Would they know what she'd done? Probably. Murder her. Maybe she's spontaneously combusting soon, and that will be that.
Shut, fuck, right. The guy. Teo, Teo Garcia. If she hadn't known it was something like that before he said it, Ryder has no doubt that she wouldn't have retained that information, thanks to the kazoo parade taking over her brain. Her nails, short and bitten with their own black polish chipped off in several places, have dug into her palms -- a fact she realizes as curses as she finally remembers to return the gesture. Handshake time. Great. Not at all a stupid fucking practice she hated. Nor was it totally mortifying that her hands are both cold and sweaty.]
Ry -- Ry-der.
[She sounds so stupid. She can't look at him, too flustered to be able to deal with his disgust, irritation, or sneer. If she gives him a second, he'll be able to put on another friendly face, because he's a professional or something. The table is getting a damn good scowl directed at it, though. One banana. Two banana. Three banana. She huffs and lifts her gaze to settle on Teo properly for the first time. She needs to count more bananas, fuck. Is someone like this really going to put up with her long enough for her to...stop feeling like she does? Four banana.]
Y-you don't -- [Five banana.] Um. Just -- Ryder. [Six banana, and oh, right. Say hi, Ry.] ...'lo. Um. Water, or w-what?
[She's got a different look to her than most of his clients. Male escorts aren't nearly as popular as their female counterparts, with those people favoring men being unwilling to be so bold. Not unheard of or he wouldn't have a job, but definitely not as popular. He usually expects severe faced women or coy looking men. Sometimes he gets a more conservative sort that's wondering if they made the wrong choice but then he just takes it slow and tries to show them a nice easy time out.
But here she is, half shaved head, chewed up nails, round baby face set in a scowl and looking ready to run. He has yet to have anyone cancel before a meeting's begun but he wonders if this won't be the first. He's nearly lowered his hand when she finally decides to shake it. Cold and sweaty. Definitely nervous. He tries to soften his smile.]
My bad. Ryder then. Cool name.
[He wonders if it's her real name or an interesting psuedonym just for this. He doesn't ask.]
Water sounds great. But I'll have whatever you're having.
[No imposing. No asking for more than is offered. If she's not already sitting, he'll get the chair for her, but otherwise, he'll get a seat for himself.]
[Oh. That smile of his almost looks -- genuine? She's still not comfortable dropping her guard completely, but his efforts to ease her are appreciated, and that does more to accomplish the goal than anything. Plus he likes her name. She wants to thank him -- when you picked your own rather than being given it, it made actual sense to be flattered! -- but the words catch just long enough that saying them becomes awkward. Ryder looks down to her hands, fighting the urge to pick at her cuticles. It's probably a bad idea, but...]
Bottle of port with a side of water it is...
[She needs something to make it so she can speak more smoothly at above an inaudible mumble. Hopefully it would just make her less jittery, not drown any remaining braincells sticking with her through this. When she goes to relay this information, Ryder gives up and points at the drinks menu with no small amount of shame. No matter how many bananas she counts, she can't stop wanting to cry -- and that feeling only intensifies as her face and nerves are taken in and a request for her ID is made. Do they really think she could swing this sort of outing if she wasn't at least twenty-one?! What are the kids up to these days? Sheepishly she produces her ID, which does indeed list her as Ryder Mae Morris, if Teo cares to put the effort in to read the little writing from across the table. Back into the phone wallet it goes! Loud exhale of relief to have gotten through that somewhat painlessly!
...Fuck. Fuck, shit, hell, damn! Because what do people say when talking to other humans and trying to have a good time? She doesn't do this, even when "this" isn't specifically hiring someone else to help. Instead of forcing herself to figure it out, Ryder grabs the main menu and partly shields herself from view. She can focus on reading!
...
......]
...What th'fuck is any of this? [SHITFUCK, DID SHE SAY THAT OUT LOUD] Um. I m -- I m-mean, um. Jesus, just -- ignore -- [But she doesn't want to be ignored. This sucks. She sucks. Time to duck a little further behind her menu.] S-ss -- sor --
[He makes mental notes as he goes. He doesn't know if other escorts do this or if it just comes easy to them to have everybody figured out right away. She struggles through her words and he doesn't think much of it until she gives up and the lack makes it all the more obvious.
They ask for her ID and he's just as surprised. She's got a baby face, yes, but she'd have to be old enough to drink if she was old enough to request his services-- if not, he'd be walking out right now. But, he guesses a waiter wouldn't know that.
He reads the name. It rings nicely, Ryder Mae, but he tries not to get too caught up on that when she's suffering one hell of a rough start. He kind of fails when her outburst makes him laugh.]
Hey, it's okay. [He smothers any grin that tries to form in exchange for something more sympathetic.] You're not gonna offend me. Why don't I help? You tell me what you're in the mood for and I'll point out what's the closest. I cook in my spare time, so, I'm at least a little familiar with the names of things.
[Of course he's laughing at her. Who wouldn't? She obviously has no business being here, doing any of the things she's doing. As much as it makes sense he recognize her for the foolish loser she is, Ryder still feels that rush of hurt and embarrassment. What crosses her face, luckily still half hidden by the menu, is bordering on hatred born out of years and years of assuming the worst of others. His words don't sink in immediately. When they do, her expression goes blank, unable to land cleanly on a new emotion. Directions unclear. She needs a fucking map, or something.]
Um.
[Okay. Uhhh. Shit. What was she in the mood for? Running away and crying in a closet. Throwing up, maybe. Neither of those will have an equivalent on the menu. Crying to her mommy makes her think of pasta. What if this makes her hate pasta, though? She doesn't want to hate pasta. She doesn't want to hate this guy either, she decides, even if he's confusing her.
Because I'm tired of looking at various menus, eventually, after a lot of stumbling over herself, Ryder manages to give a general idea that Teo can match, and she decides to trust him on it. Really, she'd like to skip straight to dessert. Or have waffles. No, she's having this lamb something or other! Oh thank god, the wine's here.]
Y -- [If she addresses her glass, it's a little easier.] You -- cook?
[That's pretty amazing... Are escorts just perfect people? That would make sense.]
[It clicks right away that he's hurt her feelings, something he'd feel pretty terrible about even if it couldn't also cost him his job. Give the client a good time. That is the whole job description. Come on, Teo, get your shit together.
She starts to consider what she wants and works her way through saying it with plenty of false starts and stumbling. He doesn't laugh this time.]
Apricot Lamb Tagine. Really beautiful dish. Lots of unique flavors working together.
[At least if he can't salvage this outing, that dish will. That's a hard one to snub. He's kind of tempted to have it himself.]
I do. It's... kind of a passion. [He's never initially sure how much to say in this work about himself. Some people liked getting to know him. Some just wanted him to be a blank slate they could project on. He's managed both.] Been cooking since I was a little kid. You've probably heard the sayings, how everyone loves food and it brings people together. Even now we're meeting over food.
[She glances up wishing she had more to hide behind -- like maybe a computer screen and a username. That'd be great. She can't understand that kind of thinking at all, even if he's right that it's something she's heard before. That only makes it worse...but he's also right, she realizes, looking back down at the table. They're meeting over food. It played a huge role in connecting people, no matter how Ryder couldn't stop thinking about always eating alone at school or spending Thanksgivings with only her mom in whatever restaurants were open and serving noodles. The disconnect must be with her. ...Well, that's not actually a surprise.
Her hands curl into fists that she moves to her lap and she shakes her head.]
...L-live o-ou -- out. Mmmicrowave.
[Her thought process stops there, without the consideration of him asking about her in general. She's...not interesting. She's not something to talk about or learn about. That's why she eats cheap frozen meals alone watching people stream video games almost every night, instead of being in her element here. Thankfully, this guy seems confident, even if some parts of him didn't read as fitting, either.
.......Oh, she just thinks he's reassuring with his really nice smile, and thus doesn't belong in this place that makes her uncomfortable. Hm. Curses.]
[He winces, a gesture that's half playing (but only half).]
The college student diet then.
[Microwaves were useful but rarely made for good meals. He remembers his mother's overuse of it.
Ryder didn't catch what he truly meant, but he decides not to pedal back just yet. That would only embarrass or fluster her.]
So was this place a step out of your comfort zone or do you usually take to these kinds of restaurants when you want to give the microwave a break?
[He kind of suspects the former. Maybe she wanted to really make the evening into something special. Maybe she was trying to impress someone-- that happened, once or twice. He hopes that it wasn't done to impress him, even if it is, in fact, impressive.]
[Even without him correcting her, Ryder seems to shrink in her seat, fighting to keep her nervous energy under control before she does something as mortifying as burst into song just to get it out. When he rolls into his question, she winces a little and glances up before fully hearing it.]
What?
[Um. Oh. Oh. Somehow, she deflates even more. She doesn't fit in. She knows it, he knows it, everyone at nearby tables knows it, god she wouldn't be surprised if it got printed in the news tomorrow, and fuck her, because more people than you'd think still read paper news.]
I-I... I just -- thought... [Well. Shit. If she tries to say anything more, she's either going to snap at him or stutter until she's embarrassed into crying. Guess she's done with that sentence.]
[Oh. God. He is so fired. He is going to be fired. This is going terribly.
He can't be too shocked on his own behalf. He was bound to fuck up sooner or later. It's what he does. It's what he always seems to do. But, he feels tremendously shitty for her. He's ruining her whole night. She probably expected to be swept off her feet by a real pro and instead, she got stuck with him.
He laughs faintly, helplessly, nervously.]
I'm... so sorry.
[Professional escorts are not supposed to apologize, a voice in his head hisses. Well! Surprise. He's no pro. He looks down at the table.]
That sounded like a jab, didn't it? I swear I didn't mean it like that. It's a nice place. Really cool. I hope you'll enjoy it too.
[They sit there, mutually mortified. He hastens to fix things, but the words sound fake. Pitying. Mocking. Ryder doesn't realize how withdrawn her body language has become until a sharp pain makes her realize that she's split her nail a little too far down for comfort with her teeth. Shit, it's bleeding... Not enough to matter, but it's just another thing to make this the best night ever. She tucks her thumb inside her fist and wraps her arms around herself.]
Nn --
["No" what? Just what is she protesting or disagreeing with? That he doesn't hope she enjoys it? He'd have to really hate her already, if he didn't want that much. But...maybe he's decided that it isn't worth it.]
Ss... S -- fuck.
[She'd say it until it proved she was capable of not stumbling over every fucking word, but someone would notice, and it'd be another person looking at her and wishing she'd vanish the same way her voice did. Fuck, her thumb hurts. Who allowed such little, nothing injuries to sting so bad?]
...Y-you don't -- hav-have -- to --
[The words stick again, possibly clinging to her tonsils for dear life, because it was a cruel world out there, please please let them stay at home. Ryder gives into the imaginary plea to instead grab her glass and quickly down the rest of it. Oof, it was sweet and all, as far as things go, but still not a good move. Just...work!]
I won't m-mma -- mmm-m. M-motherfucker. Make y-you, um. Um. ...Talk. To me, anymore. God, shit. [Don't CRY, you bitch! You've made this awkward enough! Exhale. Not sure when the inhale happened, but exhale. Phew. Good, doing good. Just another sentence...maybe. She hopes it's just a sentence. That'll take long enough as it is.] If you'll -- you -- you could just, um. W- Ugh, w-when he comes back. Order? I won't -- We can just eat. Y-you know?
[They might as well get a meal out of this.]
I should've -- I should've known -- better. Sssorry.
[It sounds like it's going to be a 'no' and that's all he needs to wince. Which, of course, he's also not supposed to do. Stupid, stupid, why did he think he could do this job?
She stumbles over her words and it drags out the moment of waiting for her judgement. He fights to keep his cool, keep up the facade, for Christ's sake, she's paying for this.
He doesn't have to? What, apologize? That can't be right. He doesn't laugh at her cursing this time, his brows knotted. And then, just like that, confusion and surprise wipe his face clean. He blinks.]
Talk? [He repeats, like a fucking idiot.] I don't have a problem with talking to you. It's fine. You're fine. This is your night, right? It would suck if we didn't talk. [Don't say suck, you're an escort.] Unless you'd prefer it from me.
[He takes a slow breath, the smiles, small and encouraging.]
Just... if you're not having a good time, you can always let me know and I'll fix it. [Or at least set her up with a better date and give her her money back.]
[As much as she wants to never look at another human being ever again, his answer surprises her enough that her head jerks back up, leaving her to stare dumbly for several seconds. Here she goes, struggling to speak for a different reason. It sounds...too blunt and unprofessional to be fake. That means -- it must be genuine? But that's stupid. He must be stupid. Ryder realizes her mouth is hanging open and promptly shuts it, teeth clicking. She might as well not look like a total dumbass while she's trying to come up with words that fit her feelings, but didn't shove him away entirely.
She glances away, starting to chew her lip. Think, think. What...do you possibly say to someone that doesn't have a problem talking to you? She wants to dig out her pen, but the napkins here are cloth. She wonders if it's for money reasons, or for the environment. It also looks fancier, even though it means they're reusable, so really it's a win-win-win... One has to wonder about the water bill, though. How much does laundry add to that sort of thing? ...Does she have any quarters left? This isn't a top she wears, obviously, so she hadn't been pressed about getting her laundry done before all this, but she should probably do it when she got back. Not have that stress hanging over her anymore. Find a way to relax from this disaster as soon as possible.
Oh. Oh, fuck. She's still in the middle of the disaster.]
-- Um! Um.
[Stupid, stupid, stupid.]
Give -- m-me a -- um.
[Oh god, the employee is coming back again. Ryder nearly chokes on her tongue in the wave of panic, and while she recovers from coughing, she shoots Teo a desperate look to take care of it. That is the thing he has to fix, because the rest is all on her end, she's pretty sure. Might as well, uh, nudge her glass in the waiter's direction, as well. Earn a third or fourth reason to be red in the face, why not?
It would suck if they didn't talk? ...Just for her, because it was her night? Or for him, too? He was willing to continue in silence. Flexible. Of course they'd want to be flexible -- but he only suggested it after reassuring her. He could have taken the easy out she gave him, shrugging it off as something she asked for in the first place. He kept doing...all these little things to try and get her to feel more comfortable, even though she should be driving him nuts. Why isn't she driving him nuts? If...nothing else, it's worth trying to figure that out, right?
Once she's sure it's just the two of them again, Ryder drags herself out kicking and screaming in an attempt to harness that shrieking for good.]
...I'm nnnot. Good at this. I thought -- maybe. Um. [Wow, there's no good way to put "I found a way to hold someone hostage just for conversation". She falls into a weak mumble, not daring to look up.] You -- y-you don't...mind? Really? Or --
[Oh, he's definitely stupid. That is without a doubt. He doesn't think she is, though he can tell that he's thrown her off one way or another. The longer the quiet lasts the more anxious he gets, which is not what she needs, she needs him to chill out. He gives her the requested minutes.
What is wrong with him? He didn't blunder his other service dates this badly. He blundered his normal life this badly. He blundered second or third dates or important requests or being there when something else crops up and--
She's coughing. Is she okay? Oh god, is she choking? Wait. No. Oh. She wants something. She wants... oh!
He quickly lists off an order to the waiter, as well as a request for refilling glasses. He's quick and to the point, because he knows well this guy's going to be way busier than he's allowed to admit. Plus it gets him out of here and when she speaks up again, he's immediately relieved.]
I really don't. Even if I'm not all sure which part of "this" you mean.
[He flashes a sheepish half-grin.]
But, whatever you mean, it's not a contest. Just be how you want.
[Just be how she wants...? Right now she wants to be dead. He probably doesn't mean that, with that awkward crook to his smile. It was so -- genuine. Something that reaches out to the words she wants to say but never can. Man, she'd love to scrape a knife across a plate and make that really horrible screech that made your fillings hurt, right about now.]
Nnn... [Ryder fumbles through a few more noises that are abandoned, probably not as quickly as she would like, if she had any idea what the fuck was happening in the world around her. You know, maybe this is a nightmare. That would make sense. She shudders out an exhale and another cough before moving her arms to hug herself tightly. A little better...] ...Talking. Be -- bei -- be -- being a -- a person.
[What is she, a fucking alien? Ry, you useless dumbass!]
[Well. That relief is gone. There's only one small bit of relief in its place that the waiter is off and away, but it's not enough to overcome that sudden cold, cold feeling that hits him then. She didn't have to scrape a knife across a plate. She's managed the same effect just by words.
Being a person. Nobody wants to be around because... he's never really here, not real, not right, not enough, always less.
He stares at her, bewildered, a little afraid. Some irrational part of him is wondering if he got set up, if this is a play on him, some kind of revenge for... he doesn't know, just being an awful person all his life? Because he deserves it. He's seconds from that panic attack when rationality kicks in to remind him that not only would no one go to such an effort, but he signed on for this job and she's the one having a shitty time.
God. He really, really, really owes her that refund. He shakes his head.]
Jeez, sorry... Uh... The talking is fine. It's cool. Really. You don't have to worry about that. Just, you know, take your time and stuff. Um...
[Breathe, Teo.]
I... get the feeling, [Don't say that.] but you seem person enough from where I'm sitting. Maybe we haven't hit off too great yet, but... I'm definitely willing to get to know you. If that's what you want.
[She fucked this up. She thought she did before, but this was what fucking up was, actually. Ryder thought that if she was prepared, and guarded, and bitter, then it wouldn't hurt so much when he pulled away from the truth. Here she is, surprised to find that her heart being out there has gotten it pierced through. Fuck. She needs to leave.
...Except -- ]
What.
[Thats not how he's supposed to react. Even if he's a professional! Being good at his job wasn't enough to combat how deeply weird she was making this, and he should be at his weirdo limit. Like, even if he was used to people asking him to lick the bottom of their shoes or something -- that was within the realm of possibility! This? How could he be adapting to it when she's only making it worse?
After letting her gaze slide down from him, she cautiously reaches for her glass again to have something to do. Maybe she can swallow her nerves along with the wine -- at least some of them. Please?]
...Yeah. [Yes. For fuck's sake, yes, holy shit, YES! She wants that so badly that she feels it clawing through her innards, uncomfortable and desperate.] Ssorry, um.
[Her fingers are shaking. Stop that. Maybe she actually got rid of any intelligent thought instead of her nerves, because all of a sudden, her brain is sending a signal to her mouth that she did not approve of in the slightest. Wouldn't it be nice if she could repair her filter so that it was no longer saying anything that came to mind like someone carelessly picking a lottery ball from its randomizer cage, or full silence. No inbetween.]
[He nearly bites his lip, but that, too, is something escorts aren't supposed to do. At least not in a nervous sort of way. He should be fired. He should be so fired.
But, at least it seems he can salvage her night, if not his job. His smile returns, faint, but warming. Getting to know each other. He can do that.
Her comment on his nails catches him by surprise and then makes him laugh. He gives his head a shake and lets his fingers tap along the top of the table.]
Nah. Job's got a dress code, believe it or not. But I like to see what I can get away with. Most of the time, it's just this.
[He puts his hands back down.]
I like your haircut. Is it more rebellious or... chic?
[She takes a swig from her glass to hide the fact that his laugh almost instinctually has her swallowing hard again. She's...adjusting, though. For some reason, he's being kind to her, and the laugh is something she's reminding herself to appreciate. A happy sound. A good sound. A good sound that paves the way for words that are slowly bringing her more out of her withdrawn state.
Instinctually, she puts her hand into her longer bangs and turns red. Were those the only options? Either of them would be embarrassing to say... She isn't aware enough of herself to keep away the deep frown.]
...Hnh. ...Jus-just -- like it. I-I'unno. Um, y-you don't...have to compliment me, or -- whatever.
I'm not- I'm not just saying it. It's cool. I just wanted to see if I was speaking to a... secret fellow punk, without making you feel bad about your hair if you're not into that.
[So, the whole Acting Like An Escort is out the window then. He really screwed this one. He is not looking forward to that call with the service. Of course, he's also got to tell her that he's going to try and get the fee waived, but better to tell her later, or at the least, after they've left the restaurant so he doesn't embarrass her (even more) in public.]
[The swing didn't miss! It was just more of a...glancing blow, thanks to defenses that were much too...defensive. Ryder hesitantly lets the wall lower a little at his explanation, even though it makes her blush even deeper.]
O-oh. Um.
[That's a good...thing. Good thing to say and good reason to say it, she thinks. With a slow exhale, she combs her hair down over her eye a few times before glancing up.]
Yeah. I dunno. I -- guess. Like, u-um, punk lite. [But she doesn't think she'd pass the test, so there's no reason to get his hopes up. What's the criteria for being punk, anyway? Should she ask? No -- that will just make her look stupid. ...Stupider.] S-sss... Neither of us. F-fit here...then?
[Oops. But it is kind of a relief. Teo had seemed like the food would be good regardless of that, too, so maybe it would be okay despite that, and the possibility makes more of the tension in Ryder's shoulder leave.]
I w -- w-was worried. Um. It was hhhhard to f-f-find. A t -- a top that w-would cover m-my tattoos, but not -- n-not, um, make me fffeel -- feel weird.
With that same smile, he shakes his head. Nope, he doesn't fit here at all. Maybe his other sort of work-- the cooking kind-- but he, himself? Not a chance.
His eyes brighten further at the mention of tattoos. He nearly asks to see, but there's no way not to make that awkward. Instead, he lifts an arm up onto the table and ever so slightly pulls the cuff of his sleeve up. There's definitely ink under there. He hides it away, but his arms stay on the table now for him to lean forward.]
I'll tell you my secret. I'm always feeling weird.
[Oh! Him, too! Ryder may not get to inspect his -- and she'd hesitate to show him hers right now in return, so that's fair -- but she's still happy to be able to mentally point and cheer same hat! What he says next is more same hat than ever, and even though she diverts her gaze to her lap, there isn't the same hurt or panic in her eyes as before. She's just her normal level of shy.]
O-kay, Hulk. [Ryder gives a small nod of agreement, before sipping at her wine. Hmm. She's never seen those movies. Well -- she'd seen the Spider-Man ones because that dude had killed his lip sync performance of Umbrella by strutting his stuff, so he deserved the attention. That line was something said to Cap, right? Probably Captain America. She's pretty sure.
...Oh, right.] G-good at -- pretending otherw-wise. To me, at least...
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storywalks) wrote2022-03-03 11:13 pm
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Then she takes it out again to look herself over in the camera app, makes some miserable sort of whimper-grumble, and puts it away. Fine. Fine!! She looks weird and uncomfortable and is probably not at all pretty or cute or anything, but it wasn't like that mattered at all. The person she's meeting isn't really there out of interest in her. She's paying him to see her. Humiliating. ...And it wasn't like that, either! The only reason she tried to put on a nicer top and do her makeup at all was so she might fit the setting a little better. She didn't realize that she'd feel so out of place no matter what, ruining any attempt she had at making herself a little more tolerable to talk to. That was the real reason for all this.]
Waste of money, [she mumbles to herself, finger-combing her hair down over her face. She didn't even have all much money to waste, after being fired again for not being a good fit or having a bad attitude, whatever. As she looks around before pushing her way into the restaurant, Ryder forces herself to accept it. She's so terrible at finding a way to be good company that she has to pay someone to be around her...because as much as she hates to admit it, she's lonely as fuck. She just...needs someone to look at her while they talk to her. Someone to validate the thought that she's still alive besides the voice of her mother over the phone.]
Mm -- M-Mor -- [Great start.] Mmorris f-for two, I'm -- meeting someone?
[As she's led to a table, horrified to find it's somewhere in the middle, apparently, Ryder wonders if she'd rather be the first to arrive and get settled, or for the escort guy already be there... Awh fuck, and she should've used a fake name. People don't use their actual fucking names for this shit! Stupid, stupid!]
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The suggestion to get into escorting had initially made him laugh. But then he thought about it. He wasn't amazing, but he was decent-looking, he thought. He knew the rules for phrasing things and not talking to cops, and he both and enjoyed and was fairly good at sex-- Though it's been clarified he wouldn't necessarily be doing that, he got the implication that it was fairly often unofficially a part of the deal. Conversation... well, he was friendly. He liked conversation. Sure, he probably wouldn't be making friends in this sort of position but he wouldn't be entirely lonely. So, hey, win-win, right? He went for it.
Plus the pay was fantastic.
Today, he's meeting a woman named Ryder Morris. He's not allowed to dress like a punk according to the service he's with unless it's specifically okayed, and not as a first meeting thing. They're higher-end and he has to act like it, even if it's the most hysterically laughable part of this whole gig. But, he does his best to play the part; a dark shirt with a bit of a neck dive but not too much, a tailored suit jacket instead of his usual patchy sort, hair pulled back just a little in a half-pony. He's still painting his nails black.
He shows up early because that's the thing to do and also because he's not supposed to ruin the dazzling image with his car and that means walking a little ways to make him exactly on time. He tries to be subtle in admiring the restaurant so he looks like someone who belongs there and not like he's eager to scan the menu and compare metaphorical notes. He asks the name of his client, he's led along, and there she is, barely settled into her seat. He does wish they weren't in the middle of the room, but hey.]
Miss Morris? [He holds out a hand to her and flashes a wide smile.] It's nice to meet you. My name's-- [Just say it. Just say the damn full name. Mmmmmaaa--] Teo. Teo Garcia. [Fuck. Whatever. Saves him from being called Matt.]
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And then he speaks and his words send an instant, almost crunchy shiver through her. Miss Morris. Gross. Well, it's her mom's name, so maybe not gross, but definitely not something that suited her. That suits this entire meeting then, huh? She grimaces before remembering that her face isn't just something she sees in her mind's eye, but actually visible to this man, as well as the barely lingering host or waiter -- how the fuck did it work in places like this? Was this the same person she talked to just a minute ago? Jesus. She can't tell. Fuck this place. Never mind that this is solely on her.]
Um. [Her eyes flick to restaurant employee extra, as she's decided to have them named in the credits of this scene, and it's hard to say whether she looks more panicked or hostile. What were they going to think about the fact that the person she's out to dinner with is introducing himself and calling her "Miss"? Would they know what she'd done? Probably. Murder her. Maybe she's spontaneously combusting soon, and that will be that.
Shut, fuck, right. The guy. Teo, Teo Garcia. If she hadn't known it was something like that before he said it, Ryder has no doubt that she wouldn't have retained that information, thanks to the kazoo parade taking over her brain. Her nails, short and bitten with their own black polish chipped off in several places, have dug into her palms -- a fact she realizes as curses as she finally remembers to return the gesture. Handshake time. Great. Not at all a stupid fucking practice she hated. Nor was it totally mortifying that her hands are both cold and sweaty.]
Ry -- Ry-der.
[She sounds so stupid. She can't look at him, too flustered to be able to deal with his disgust, irritation, or sneer. If she gives him a second, he'll be able to put on another friendly face, because he's a professional or something. The table is getting a damn good scowl directed at it, though. One banana. Two banana. Three banana. She huffs and lifts her gaze to settle on Teo properly for the first time. She needs to count more bananas, fuck. Is someone like this really going to put up with her long enough for her to...stop feeling like she does? Four banana.]
Y-you don't -- [Five banana.] Um. Just -- Ryder. [Six banana, and oh, right. Say hi, Ry.] ...'lo. Um. Water, or w-what?
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But here she is, half shaved head, chewed up nails, round baby face set in a scowl and looking ready to run. He has yet to have anyone cancel before a meeting's begun but he wonders if this won't be the first. He's nearly lowered his hand when she finally decides to shake it. Cold and sweaty. Definitely nervous. He tries to soften his smile.]
My bad. Ryder then. Cool name.
[He wonders if it's her real name or an interesting psuedonym just for this. He doesn't ask.]
Water sounds great. But I'll have whatever you're having.
[No imposing. No asking for more than is offered. If she's not already sitting, he'll get the chair for her, but otherwise, he'll get a seat for himself.]
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Bottle of port with a side of water it is...
[She needs something to make it so she can speak more smoothly at above an inaudible mumble. Hopefully it would just make her less jittery, not drown any remaining braincells sticking with her through this. When she goes to relay this information, Ryder gives up and points at the drinks menu with no small amount of shame. No matter how many bananas she counts, she can't stop wanting to cry -- and that feeling only intensifies as her face and nerves are taken in and a request for her ID is made. Do they really think she could swing this sort of outing if she wasn't at least twenty-one?! What are the kids up to these days? Sheepishly she produces her ID, which does indeed list her as Ryder Mae Morris, if Teo cares to put the effort in to read the little writing from across the table. Back into the phone wallet it goes! Loud exhale of relief to have gotten through that somewhat painlessly!
...Fuck. Fuck, shit, hell, damn! Because what do people say when talking to other humans and trying to have a good time? She doesn't do this, even when "this" isn't specifically hiring someone else to help. Instead of forcing herself to figure it out, Ryder grabs the main menu and partly shields herself from view. She can focus on reading!
...
......]
...What th'fuck is any of this? [SHITFUCK, DID SHE SAY THAT OUT LOUD] Um. I m -- I m-mean, um. Jesus, just -- ignore -- [But she doesn't want to be ignored. This sucks. She sucks. Time to duck a little further behind her menu.] S-ss -- sor --
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They ask for her ID and he's just as surprised. She's got a baby face, yes, but she'd have to be old enough to drink if she was old enough to request his services-- if not, he'd be walking out right now. But, he guesses a waiter wouldn't know that.
He reads the name. It rings nicely, Ryder Mae, but he tries not to get too caught up on that when she's suffering one hell of a rough start. He kind of fails when her outburst makes him laugh.]
Hey, it's okay. [He smothers any grin that tries to form in exchange for something more sympathetic.] You're not gonna offend me. Why don't I help? You tell me what you're in the mood for and I'll point out what's the closest. I cook in my spare time, so, I'm at least a little familiar with the names of things.
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Um.
[Okay. Uhhh. Shit. What was she in the mood for? Running away and crying in a closet. Throwing up, maybe. Neither of those will have an equivalent on the menu. Crying to her mommy makes her think of pasta. What if this makes her hate pasta, though? She doesn't want to hate pasta. She doesn't want to hate this guy either, she decides, even if he's confusing her.
Because I'm tired of looking at various menus, eventually, after a lot of stumbling over herself, Ryder manages to give a general idea that Teo can match, and she decides to trust him on it. Really, she'd like to skip straight to dessert. Or have waffles. No, she's having this lamb something or other! Oh thank god, the wine's here.]
Y -- [If she addresses her glass, it's a little easier.] You -- cook?
[That's pretty amazing... Are escorts just perfect people? That would make sense.]
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She starts to consider what she wants and works her way through saying it with plenty of false starts and stumbling. He doesn't laugh this time.]
Apricot Lamb Tagine. Really beautiful dish. Lots of unique flavors working together.
[At least if he can't salvage this outing, that dish will. That's a hard one to snub. He's kind of tempted to have it himself.]
I do. It's... kind of a passion. [He's never initially sure how much to say in this work about himself. Some people liked getting to know him. Some just wanted him to be a blank slate they could project on. He's managed both.] Been cooking since I was a little kid. You've probably heard the sayings, how everyone loves food and it brings people together. Even now we're meeting over food.
What about you?
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Her hands curl into fists that she moves to her lap and she shakes her head.]
...L-live o-ou -- out. Mmmicrowave.
[Her thought process stops there, without the consideration of him asking about her in general. She's...not interesting. She's not something to talk about or learn about. That's why she eats cheap frozen meals alone watching people stream video games almost every night, instead of being in her element here. Thankfully, this guy seems confident, even if some parts of him didn't read as fitting, either.
.......Oh, she just thinks he's reassuring with his really nice smile, and thus doesn't belong in this place that makes her uncomfortable. Hm. Curses.]
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The college student diet then.
[Microwaves were useful but rarely made for good meals. He remembers his mother's overuse of it.
Ryder didn't catch what he truly meant, but he decides not to pedal back just yet. That would only embarrass or fluster her.]
So was this place a step out of your comfort zone or do you usually take to these kinds of restaurants when you want to give the microwave a break?
[He kind of suspects the former. Maybe she wanted to really make the evening into something special. Maybe she was trying to impress someone-- that happened, once or twice. He hopes that it wasn't done to impress him, even if it is, in fact, impressive.]
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What?
[Um. Oh. Oh. Somehow, she deflates even more. She doesn't fit in. She knows it, he knows it, everyone at nearby tables knows it, god she wouldn't be surprised if it got printed in the news tomorrow, and fuck her, because more people than you'd think still read paper news.]
I-I... I just -- thought... [Well. Shit. If she tries to say anything more, she's either going to snap at him or stutter until she's embarrassed into crying. Guess she's done with that sentence.]
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He can't be too shocked on his own behalf. He was bound to fuck up sooner or later. It's what he does. It's what he always seems to do. But, he feels tremendously shitty for her. He's ruining her whole night. She probably expected to be swept off her feet by a real pro and instead, she got stuck with him.
He laughs faintly, helplessly, nervously.]
I'm... so sorry.
[Professional escorts are not supposed to apologize, a voice in his head hisses. Well! Surprise. He's no pro. He looks down at the table.]
That sounded like a jab, didn't it? I swear I didn't mean it like that. It's a nice place. Really cool. I hope you'll enjoy it too.
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Nn --
["No" what? Just what is she protesting or disagreeing with? That he doesn't hope she enjoys it? He'd have to really hate her already, if he didn't want that much. But...maybe he's decided that it isn't worth it.]
Ss... S -- fuck.
[She'd say it until it proved she was capable of not stumbling over every fucking word, but someone would notice, and it'd be another person looking at her and wishing she'd vanish the same way her voice did. Fuck, her thumb hurts. Who allowed such little, nothing injuries to sting so bad?]
...Y-you don't -- hav-have -- to --
[The words stick again, possibly clinging to her tonsils for dear life, because it was a cruel world out there, please please let them stay at home. Ryder gives into the imaginary plea to instead grab her glass and quickly down the rest of it. Oof, it was sweet and all, as far as things go, but still not a good move. Just...work!]
I won't m-mma -- mmm-m. M-motherfucker. Make y-you, um. Um. ...Talk. To me, anymore. God, shit. [Don't CRY, you bitch! You've made this awkward enough! Exhale. Not sure when the inhale happened, but exhale. Phew. Good, doing good. Just another sentence...maybe. She hopes it's just a sentence. That'll take long enough as it is.] If you'll -- you -- you could just, um. W- Ugh, w-when he comes back. Order? I won't -- We can just eat. Y-you know?
[They might as well get a meal out of this.]
I should've -- I should've known -- better. Sssorry.
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She stumbles over her words and it drags out the moment of waiting for her judgement. He fights to keep his cool, keep up the facade, for Christ's sake, she's paying for this.
He doesn't have to? What, apologize? That can't be right. He doesn't laugh at her cursing this time, his brows knotted. And then, just like that, confusion and surprise wipe his face clean. He blinks.]
Talk? [He repeats, like a fucking idiot.] I don't have a problem with talking to you. It's fine. You're fine. This is your night, right? It would suck if we didn't talk. [Don't say suck, you're an escort.] Unless you'd prefer it from me.
[He takes a slow breath, the smiles, small and encouraging.]
Just... if you're not having a good time, you can always let me know and I'll fix it. [Or at least set her up with a better date and give her her money back.]
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She glances away, starting to chew her lip. Think, think. What...do you possibly say to someone that doesn't have a problem talking to you? She wants to dig out her pen, but the napkins here are cloth. She wonders if it's for money reasons, or for the environment. It also looks fancier, even though it means they're reusable, so really it's a win-win-win... One has to wonder about the water bill, though. How much does laundry add to that sort of thing? ...Does she have any quarters left? This isn't a top she wears, obviously, so she hadn't been pressed about getting her laundry done before all this, but she should probably do it when she got back. Not have that stress hanging over her anymore. Find a way to relax from this disaster as soon as possible.
Oh. Oh, fuck. She's still in the middle of the disaster.]
-- Um! Um.
[Stupid, stupid, stupid.]
Give -- m-me a -- um.
[Oh god, the employee is coming back again. Ryder nearly chokes on her tongue in the wave of panic, and while she recovers from coughing, she shoots Teo a desperate look to take care of it. That is the thing he has to fix, because the rest is all on her end, she's pretty sure. Might as well, uh, nudge her glass in the waiter's direction, as well. Earn a third or fourth reason to be red in the face, why not?
It would suck if they didn't talk? ...Just for her, because it was her night? Or for him, too? He was willing to continue in silence. Flexible. Of course they'd want to be flexible -- but he only suggested it after reassuring her. He could have taken the easy out she gave him, shrugging it off as something she asked for in the first place. He kept doing...all these little things to try and get her to feel more comfortable, even though she should be driving him nuts. Why isn't she driving him nuts? If...nothing else, it's worth trying to figure that out, right?
Once she's sure it's just the two of them again, Ryder drags herself out kicking and screaming in an attempt to harness that shrieking for good.]
...I'm nnnot. Good at this. I thought -- maybe. Um. [Wow, there's no good way to put "I found a way to hold someone hostage just for conversation". She falls into a weak mumble, not daring to look up.] You -- y-you don't...mind? Really? Or --
[No, okay, let him answer.]
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What is wrong with him? He didn't blunder his other service dates this badly. He blundered his normal life this badly. He blundered second or third dates or important requests or being there when something else crops up and--
She's coughing. Is she okay? Oh god, is she choking? Wait. No. Oh. She wants something. She wants... oh!
He quickly lists off an order to the waiter, as well as a request for refilling glasses. He's quick and to the point, because he knows well this guy's going to be way busier than he's allowed to admit. Plus it gets him out of here and when she speaks up again, he's immediately relieved.]
I really don't. Even if I'm not all sure which part of "this" you mean.
[He flashes a sheepish half-grin.]
But, whatever you mean, it's not a contest. Just be how you want.
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Nnn... [Ryder fumbles through a few more noises that are abandoned, probably not as quickly as she would like, if she had any idea what the fuck was happening in the world around her. You know, maybe this is a nightmare. That would make sense. She shudders out an exhale and another cough before moving her arms to hug herself tightly. A little better...] ...Talking. Be -- bei -- be -- being a -- a person.
[What is she, a fucking alien? Ry, you useless dumbass!]
I'm -- n-nobody...likes. Being around m-me.
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Being a person. Nobody wants to be around because... he's never really here, not real, not right, not enough, always less.
He stares at her, bewildered, a little afraid. Some irrational part of him is wondering if he got set up, if this is a play on him, some kind of revenge for... he doesn't know, just being an awful person all his life? Because he deserves it. He's seconds from that panic attack when rationality kicks in to remind him that not only would no one go to such an effort, but he signed on for this job and she's the one having a shitty time.
God. He really, really, really owes her that refund. He shakes his head.]
Jeez, sorry... Uh... The talking is fine. It's cool. Really. You don't have to worry about that. Just, you know, take your time and stuff. Um...
[Breathe, Teo.]
I... get the feeling, [Don't say that.] but you seem person enough from where I'm sitting. Maybe we haven't hit off too great yet, but... I'm definitely willing to get to know you. If that's what you want.
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...Except -- ]
What.
[Thats not how he's supposed to react. Even if he's a professional! Being good at his job wasn't enough to combat how deeply weird she was making this, and he should be at his weirdo limit. Like, even if he was used to people asking him to lick the bottom of their shoes or something -- that was within the realm of possibility! This? How could he be adapting to it when she's only making it worse?
After letting her gaze slide down from him, she cautiously reaches for her glass again to have something to do. Maybe she can swallow her nerves along with the wine -- at least some of them. Please?]
...Yeah. [Yes. For fuck's sake, yes, holy shit, YES! She wants that so badly that she feels it clawing through her innards, uncomfortable and desperate.] Ssorry, um.
[Her fingers are shaking. Stop that. Maybe she actually got rid of any intelligent thought instead of her nerves, because all of a sudden, her brain is sending a signal to her mouth that she did not approve of in the slightest. Wouldn't it be nice if she could repair her filter so that it was no longer saying anything that came to mind like someone carelessly picking a lottery ball from its randomizer cage, or full silence. No inbetween.]
Your n-nails. Nice. Is, um. S-signal?
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But, at least it seems he can salvage her night, if not his job. His smile returns, faint, but warming. Getting to know each other. He can do that.
Her comment on his nails catches him by surprise and then makes him laugh. He gives his head a shake and lets his fingers tap along the top of the table.]
Nah. Job's got a dress code, believe it or not. But I like to see what I can get away with. Most of the time, it's just this.
[He puts his hands back down.]
I like your haircut. Is it more rebellious or... chic?
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Instinctually, she puts her hand into her longer bangs and turns red. Were those the only options? Either of them would be embarrassing to say... She isn't aware enough of herself to keep away the deep frown.]
...Hnh. ...Jus-just -- like it. I-I'unno. Um, y-you don't...have to compliment me, or -- whatever.
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I'm not- I'm not just saying it. It's cool. I just wanted to see if I was speaking to a... secret fellow punk, without making you feel bad about your hair if you're not into that.
[So, the whole Acting Like An Escort is out the window then. He really screwed this one. He is not looking forward to that call with the service. Of course, he's also got to tell her that he's going to try and get the fee waived, but better to tell her later, or at the least, after they've left the restaurant so he doesn't embarrass her (even more) in public.]
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O-oh. Um.
[That's a good...thing. Good thing to say and good reason to say it, she thinks. With a slow exhale, she combs her hair down over her eye a few times before glancing up.]
Yeah. I dunno. I -- guess. Like, u-um, punk lite. [But she doesn't think she'd pass the test, so there's no reason to get his hopes up. What's the criteria for being punk, anyway? Should she ask? No -- that will just make her look stupid. ...Stupider.] S-sss... Neither of us. F-fit here...then?
[Oops. But it is kind of a relief. Teo had seemed like the food would be good regardless of that, too, so maybe it would be okay despite that, and the possibility makes more of the tension in Ryder's shoulder leave.]
I w -- w-was worried. Um. It was hhhhard to f-f-find. A t -- a top that w-would cover m-my tattoos, but not -- n-not, um, make me fffeel -- feel weird.
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[Repeats that with a smile. He can get that.
With that same smile, he shakes his head. Nope, he doesn't fit here at all. Maybe his other sort of work-- the cooking kind-- but he, himself? Not a chance.
His eyes brighten further at the mention of tattoos. He nearly asks to see, but there's no way not to make that awkward. Instead, he lifts an arm up onto the table and ever so slightly pulls the cuff of his sleeve up. There's definitely ink under there. He hides it away, but his arms stay on the table now for him to lean forward.]
I'll tell you my secret. I'm always feeling weird.
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O-kay, Hulk. [Ryder gives a small nod of agreement, before sipping at her wine. Hmm. She's never seen those movies. Well -- she'd seen the Spider-Man ones because that dude had killed his lip sync performance of Umbrella by strutting his stuff, so he deserved the attention. That line was something said to Cap, right? Probably Captain America. She's pretty sure.
...Oh, right.] G-good at -- pretending otherw-wise. To me, at least...
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