[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...
[She can't help it -- he gets a scoff of laughter, finally, though it sort of sounds like a harsh dismissal, coming from her.]
Don't quote 'im, th-then.
[...Yeah, the kimono sure had been parted pretty damn far, this time. The bungling was all on her, though. Taking what he's said and thinking way too much on it, when all he's trying to do is offer her a nice, normal experience. It really is too bad she couldn't fit the role he'd prepared for her. She can't believe she ever thought she was ready. Even with the safety net of the other person getting paid for their time, she was too scared to start climbing up that social hill. Yep, that's right. Not even a mountain. A fucking hill.]
Not y'r fault... Um. I -- [Was this stupid? Did it even work like this?] Is, um. W-w... Would th-they do -- take out boxes rrrright aw-way? No plates. We could -- we could, um. Somewhere else. With th'food.
[But it's a totally fair ribbing, so he'll accept it. He hums in thought at her question and takes a dubious glance around the restaurant. His expression turns to something of a wince.]
...Well... If this were any kind of Asian cuisine, even the 5 stars do takeaway, but... given that it's not... I'd say you're looking at a one-in-forty chance. [He forces a tentative half smile that's not all escort worthy.] Might be worth a shot?
[Ryder hums and tips her head, glancing through the screen of her hair like she's looking for a spy keeping sights on their table exactly for this purpose.]
...They w-w-w-wouldn't let -- people get a b -- a box? For leftovers? It's just -- l-like that, isn't it...?
[Just...taken extremely early. No restaurant would deny leftovers, right? They would still get the money, and then they could turn the table around faster and get someone else in! Only good things.]
Some top chefs get... weird... Pay for the experience or keep people who didn't show up from trying or... finding out recipes...
[Weird things. Egotistical things. He'd hope he never gets to that point but he sincerely doubts he ever will. He is not 5-star material, dream as he might.
He gets her suggestion nevertheless and nods.]
Maybe act nervous. Just in case. [He lifts a hand and waves over the waiter. It takes a minute, then Teo plasters on a worried look himself, though it's really not that hard to fake.]
Hi, I'm sorry, we just-- we got an emergency? We need to go right away! Is there anything the chef can do for, ah, a takeaway? Please?
[The waiter, looks torn between sympathy and convulsing in protest. Teo pries him a bit more, laying it on as thick as he can, and the waiter finally leaves them. The only thing that stops him from flashing a thumbs up is his worry that he'll get the both thrown out and with nothing to show for it, and so he watches the waiter as he disappears into the kitchen, the proceeds to watch the kitchen with baited breath. He lets it out in one hefty exhale as the man and a second waitress return with stamped and tied boxes resembling birthday gifts done up in high end shops. A third waiter brings the tab.]
Thank you so much- [He continues to press. And he hopes that Ryder can handle the tab part at least-- one thing about his job was that it wasn't his job to pay for things through the night and so he didn't tend to bring money. He can, at least, start piling the boxes on her behalf to carry out of the restaurant. With any luck, they can be making their getaway straight out those doors...]
[Act nervous? Act??? She looks genuinely flabbergasted at that, but it switches easily to anxious concern as she turns to see where Teo is waving to, then quickly switches to looking at -- oh! Her phone! Yeah, they had to have a reason for suddenly having an emergency, so Ryder quickly brings it out and switches to her texts. Mom will help.
spam me about an emergency
It doesn't take long at all for new messages to start appearing, phone softly buzzing with each one. ...It may not be the first time Ryder has relied on this particular ruse -- and as long as she didn't call, her mom knew that she was inconvenienced more than actually needing the safety of someone talking to her. It's a good system.
Lip thoroughly chewed, but the tough part apparently taken care of, Ryder looks up with wide eyes that now have a touch of genuine gratitude in them in addition to her worry. Only -- ugh, fuck, stupid credit cards! Okay, well, while that's being rushed, she might as well quickly down the rest of her glass. Come on, come on...! Funnily enough, it really is starting to feel like an emergency, but on top of the need to run away and hide under a rock, there's the quietest whisper of a thought that, oh, this is kind of fun?]
Th-th -- So sorry! [Thank god, here's her card again. No time for math, so she errs on the upper end when it comes to the tip, even though her bank account was going to weep. Better than returning their accommodations with something insultingly low. God, she hopes that wasn't somehow too low? Oh fuck, now she's doubting herself, but it's time to squirrel her card and phone away again and power walk towards the door.
Outside, her shoulders drop and a shaky exhale wheezes out of her, followed by a weak, mortified giggle. He did it. He hit them out of there. Oh, right --
thanks love you
She'll have to explain it later, which means she'll have to think of some other cover because like fuck is she telling her fucking mom she hired an escort and was a complete and total loser about it, but that's a future Ryder problem. Current Ryder just has to look back over to Teo, who might just be the hottest man alive, now, and hold out her arms in an offer to share the load. She should probably carry her own food...]
Y-you... Thanks. [Oof, a little bit dizzy, now. Probably from coming down from all those jittery feelings.] Feel -- better al-already.
[Now if this were a romance story...]
I guess w-we're kind -- kind of far from the -- park. Picnic.
[When it comes to looking like the world is crashing down, the girl's a natural. There's even a steady pinging of texts from her phone, which has him determine that she's got escape-based superpowers. He respects that.
Nevertheless, he resists flashing a thumbs up or any grins at that. If he blows this, she is legally allowed to murder him, probably.
He doesn't swig his own wine, because if both of them do it, that will probably be suspicious. Plus, nobody wants to pay for a drunk escort. Not that she's going to be paying, but still.
With all the food stacked up, he hustles out the door after her. He hears her giggle and he can't help one of his own. Mission accomplished. Mostly. Now the part where they go elsewhere to eat. She holds her arms out, so, he sets a box or two in her grip, splitting the load mostly even.]
No problem, Ryder. Glad I could help.
[Now he's grinning. Even as he peers down the street to see no park in sight.]
Could get a ride there. Or try and earn the food with a walk, I guess, but I think we already earned it.
[If there was ever a superpower she wanted -- okay, no, there's so many superpowers she wants. She would take almost any superpower, she thinks, so at least there would be something to her other than her inability to get along with people. It would even help, having something to blame for her weirdness. Superpowers were always an allegory for being othered, right? Well, the good stories about them were usually rooted in that, anyway. She's pretty sure. Anyway; power to escape is extremely valuable.
Ryder scoffs, sounding more judgmental than amused.]
There's -- Never have to earn eating, th-that's -- stupid. [That's stupid!!! Still, after she says it, she frowns to herself.] Guess -- guys like y-you... Job. Um.
[Being hot is sort of a big selling point for escorts, and conventional beauty standards she wants to stab to death, etc., etc. Wait, if he has to subscribe to those -- and maybe wants to, she doesn't fucking know his life -- is she pretty enough to be seen with him? Fuck, maybe she should have...put more effort in. Even if it wasn't something he'd complain about, presumably, that didn't mean it wasn't a bother.]
Um... Y-yeah, we -- can go. Sorry. Walk. Yeah.
[GONNA GET STARTED ON THAT, and perhaps regret the wine chugging a bit. Good thing her boots don't have a crazy heel or anything. She's having a tough enough time balancing while she's continuously kicking herself, ba dum tshh.]
Oh, no, sorry. Guess that was a shitty thing to say... [He brings a hand up rubbing at his neck.] You're right though. I wouldn't... actually want anyone to feel like they have to earn food.
[Yeah, that's pretty much anti-thesis to anything he believes in. Why'd he have to run his mouth like that?]
I mean, I guess it's a thing. In this job, that is. But I'm not married to this job or anything it's just sort of... I don't know, a gig I picked up. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
[Wouldn't it be nice if either one of them could think before they opened their mouths? Or, well... In Ryder's case at least, she thinks an awful lot, just not about what would benefit her to think on. Like, right now she's focusing a lot on "left foot, right foot, feet feet feet" to make sure she doesn't wobble -- which is definitely a worthy cause! -- but her brain lags behind on the conversation they should probably be having. "How many, many feet you meet"... Wait, hm?
Ryder looks over through the curtain of her bangs, chewing on her lip a moment before mumbling. Ahh, how does she ask... Is it normal to ask? To want to know more about that? Is he allowed to talk about that kind of thing? Damn, she can't even figure out how to ask that. Uhhh. Fuck.]
[She's glad for it, though. With how difficult things had been at the beginning, the change in his tone was a relief. He'd been accepting and encouraging, but there had been this little sheen over the top of it that made interacting with him completely intimidating. It's definitely still...hard. For instance, all this keeping track of her feet has her struggling to keep herself from asking how many foot fetishists he'd run into so far. She wants to know, but does she really want to know? Does she really want him to know she wants to know? But she doesn't feel quite as much like praying for death if it happens to slip out, and that's progress. He'd probably just answer her.
The question still catches her offguard, though, to the point that she comes to a complete stop and stares dumbly at his arm. Huh? Oh. Uhhh. Her face is hot again. Words, words... How does she open her mouth and limit it to a metaphorical car crash instead of a metaphorical trainwreck... Ryder jumps a little as someone impatiently pushes through on her other side. She shuffles closer to Teo and starts walking again.]
Um. ...M'okay. Um. [Like, she isn't the most graceful person...and it would probably hit her soon. But it also wasn't enough to make her drunk, she's pretty sure. Plus, looking down when she walks is pretty normal for her, given how much she hates the possibility of meeting someone's eyes and opening a pit to hell, which is absolutely what would happen. So... He doesn't have to...
...Would it be nice to take his arm? Or would it just make her want to scratch her skin off?
Biting down on her lip, Ryder very hesitantly shifts the weight of her food to one arm, tugs at the strap of her clutch, and mentally kicks at the nerves squiggling around her brain and stomach. Her hand is definitely sweaty again. It's a good thing, then, that she's looping her arm with his. Except that feels awkward. Aughhh, she's so unsure. How did girls in movies do this? Mumbled,] Sorry...
[She still looks down at her feet.]
L-like, um... You t-t-talking. [Though...] M's'posed...practice. But I -- but I, um, don't kn-know how...to.
[He's sure he's made a mistake the moment she looks up. He's embarrassed her. He's confusing her. He's throwing her off this way and that and it's not even really helping, just making their walk together a whole other kind of awkward. But pulling away now would make it worse, wouldn't it? What if she thinks he's got some kind of an aversion to her? God, he's stupid.]
No. No, it's okay.
[He's the one who's sorry. It is not actually the worst date he's gone on with a client, but it's ranking up there just for him being an idiot. She stares at her shoes and he stares ahead so they don't just walk right past what they're looking for.
She likes his talking. Hell if he knows why.]
You seem to be doing fine to me. [She's stuttering, yeah, but she is in fact talking. He frowns.]
You're supposed to practice...? That... I'm sorry, this is going to sound rude, I'm really not supposed to ask this, but is that why...?
['Slow feet, Quick feet. Trick feet, Sick feet. Up feet, Down feet. Here come clown feet.'
It's still really good she doesn't have much of a heel on these, but she can't help that pouty feeling of why can't she have that satisfying click? it'd make a nice beat to Dr. Seuss's The Foot Book. It might center her, or something, like a metronome. Right now she's left to flounder like an idiot, a stutter where rhythm could have been. It breaks even further at the question. Hoo boy, yeah, definitely blushing.]
...Mm. [Ryder gives a sharp nod despite the fact that doing so makes her want to disappear.] ...A c-con -- conver -- sssation hostage. And -- I dunno. Um. Not only practice, I-I -- guess. ...Wanted.
[His brows crease in sympathy. He wants to ask, is it really that hard to find someone to talk to? But he doesn't have to look hard at his own life to imagine that, yeah, it could be.
But she also wanted...? She doesn't finish that sentence, leaving him to guess. This is probably not a wise move.]
Well... I was going to tell the service to refund you. Tell them I had to cancel last minute. I mean, given that I kind of ruined the magic here, I think I owe it to you. But... not to mess with your decision or anything, but if you want more... [Read: a bedroom.] ...then I do have to keep it on the tab. Sorry. [He gives an apologetic look.]
But if you want more conversations, I can give you my number.
[She manages to keep walking, probably mostly due to the fact that her arm is linked with his and she has to keep the momentum going or risk being left behind. God, he's tall. Was he this tall before, when they were sitting? She's pretty sure he was not. What the fuck.
-- Ah. But that wasn't what thing she currently wanted to "what the fuck" about. Refund...? But why? She's been falling over herself and reading into things too deeply. He's the one putting up with her dumb requests, just trying to make the best of a shit situation. It wasn't like any of this was his fault. He should get paid! Keep the money on the tab! To do that -- ]
...If I -- [OH.] Oh.
[Oh??? Ohhh my god. When will the gateway to Hell open up beneath her and swallow her whole? Or, like, chomp down when she's mid-fall and bifurcate her. That's the word she wants, right? Bifurcate? Let's think about how to spell that so maybe her blood will remember to stop being on fire.
It doesn't work. She feels dizzy. There's no point to stopping again, because the more they stop, the longer it takes them to get to the park, where they'll finally eat. ...Ryder doesn't know if she can eat, with how she's vaguely sick, now. But you have to take 'em out to dinner first, it's the law. The law leading to Teo doing his job and being properly rewarded for it, just uhh also the law leading to other stuff.
Okay, no. Think about the road less(?) traveled, Ry. That actually does make sense as a name, seeing as path is labeled "CONVERSATION", which is weird because: 1. people don't talk to her. 2. people would rather use their mouths for things other than talking. Sometimes, if things were nice, there would be talking after, but the impression that she's gotten from Heterosexual Media is that guys kind of aren't fans of that, and honestly she had never expected to be in a position to find out for herself, so she didn't bother looking deeper into it. After all, refer back to the first point!
Ugh... Ryder feels exhausted as she wonders if more time has passed than it seems or less, while she figures out which story branch she's selecting today. She doesn't even remember what the point of all that thinking was. It wasn't like she could answer the questions springing up like horrified rabbits without... Something about Teo with a hunting rifle. With a scope. God, she needs to either shut off her brain completely or get someplace they can sit.]
[He winces and only does so more as she goes beat red. She's probably humiliated over the thought of him. It's not as if she knew what she'd be getting when she called the service. And after the way things have been going...
He feels sorry for speaking. He feels sorry for existing. But unfortunately for everyone, he's here and she's in this situation and he's got to be clear, even if it's harrowing.
His own cheeks color and he shrugs a little helplessly. He keeps himself from glancing away by focusing on the path ahead.]
Ah, safety issue. You know, if one of the escorts gets sick or hurt, good to know what happened where so that others don't get the same, you know...? But, I mean, for legal reasons it'll probably just say "massage"...
[At least, he assumes that's what she's asking 'why' about. He thinks the reason for refunding is pretty obvious. Does she feel wooed? Because she certainly doesn't look like it.]
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storywalks) wrote2022-03-03 11:13 pm
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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.
no subject
...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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
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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[Fired. So fired. He decides to take up his own helping of wine. Why not, right?]
Sometimes. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes... well, I think it's safe to say I bungled this one. The weird cat is way out of the weird bag.
[But at the same time, now that they're talking, he does feel like he's doing better with her, if not his job.]
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Don't quote 'im, th-then.
[...Yeah, the kimono sure had been parted pretty damn far, this time. The bungling was all on her, though. Taking what he's said and thinking way too much on it, when all he's trying to do is offer her a nice, normal experience. It really is too bad she couldn't fit the role he'd prepared for her. She can't believe she ever thought she was ready. Even with the safety net of the other person getting paid for their time, she was too scared to start climbing up that social hill. Yep, that's right. Not even a mountain. A fucking hill.]
Not y'r fault... Um. I -- [Was this stupid? Did it even work like this?] Is, um. W-w... Would th-they do -- take out boxes rrrright aw-way? No plates. We could -- we could, um. Somewhere else. With th'food.
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Wasn't intentional...!
[But it's a totally fair ribbing, so he'll accept it. He hums in thought at her question and takes a dubious glance around the restaurant. His expression turns to something of a wince.]
...Well... If this were any kind of Asian cuisine, even the 5 stars do takeaway, but... given that it's not... I'd say you're looking at a one-in-forty chance. [He forces a tentative half smile that's not all escort worthy.] Might be worth a shot?
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...They w-w-w-wouldn't let -- people get a b -- a box? For leftovers? It's just -- l-like that, isn't it...?
[Just...taken extremely early. No restaurant would deny leftovers, right? They would still get the money, and then they could turn the table around faster and get someone else in! Only good things.]
Could... Um...?
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[Weird things. Egotistical things. He'd hope he never gets to that point but he sincerely doubts he ever will. He is not 5-star material, dream as he might.
He gets her suggestion nevertheless and nods.]
Maybe act nervous. Just in case. [He lifts a hand and waves over the waiter. It takes a minute, then Teo plasters on a worried look himself, though it's really not that hard to fake.]
Hi, I'm sorry, we just-- we got an emergency? We need to go right away! Is there anything the chef can do for, ah, a takeaway? Please?
[The waiter, looks torn between sympathy and convulsing in protest. Teo pries him a bit more, laying it on as thick as he can, and the waiter finally leaves them. The only thing that stops him from flashing a thumbs up is his worry that he'll get the both thrown out and with nothing to show for it, and so he watches the waiter as he disappears into the kitchen, the proceeds to watch the kitchen with baited breath. He lets it out in one hefty exhale as the man and a second waitress return with stamped and tied boxes resembling birthday gifts done up in high end shops. A third waiter brings the tab.]
Thank you so much- [He continues to press. And he hopes that Ryder can handle the tab part at least-- one thing about his job was that it wasn't his job to pay for things through the night and so he didn't tend to bring money. He can, at least, start piling the boxes on her behalf to carry out of the restaurant. With any luck, they can be making their getaway straight out those doors...]
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spam me about an emergency
It doesn't take long at all for new messages to start appearing, phone softly buzzing with each one. ...It may not be the first time Ryder has relied on this particular ruse -- and as long as she didn't call, her mom knew that she was inconvenienced more than actually needing the safety of someone talking to her. It's a good system.
Lip thoroughly chewed, but the tough part apparently taken care of, Ryder looks up with wide eyes that now have a touch of genuine gratitude in them in addition to her worry. Only -- ugh, fuck, stupid credit cards! Okay, well, while that's being rushed, she might as well quickly down the rest of her glass. Come on, come on...! Funnily enough, it really is starting to feel like an emergency, but on top of the need to run away and hide under a rock, there's the quietest whisper of a thought that, oh, this is kind of fun?]
Th-th -- So sorry! [Thank god, here's her card again. No time for math, so she errs on the upper end when it comes to the tip, even though her bank account was going to weep. Better than returning their accommodations with something insultingly low. God, she hopes that wasn't somehow too low? Oh fuck, now she's doubting herself, but it's time to squirrel her card and phone away again and power walk towards the door.
Outside, her shoulders drop and a shaky exhale wheezes out of her, followed by a weak, mortified giggle. He did it. He hit them out of there. Oh, right --
thanks love you
She'll have to explain it later, which means she'll have to think of some other cover because like fuck is she telling her fucking mom she hired an escort and was a complete and total loser about it, but that's a future Ryder problem. Current Ryder just has to look back over to Teo, who might just be the hottest man alive, now, and hold out her arms in an offer to share the load. She should probably carry her own food...]
Y-you... Thanks. [Oof, a little bit dizzy, now. Probably from coming down from all those jittery feelings.] Feel -- better al-already.
[Now if this were a romance story...]
I guess w-we're kind -- kind of far from the -- park. Picnic.
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Nevertheless, he resists flashing a thumbs up or any grins at that. If he blows this, she is legally allowed to murder him, probably.
He doesn't swig his own wine, because if both of them do it, that will probably be suspicious. Plus, nobody wants to pay for a drunk escort. Not that she's going to be paying, but still.
With all the food stacked up, he hustles out the door after her. He hears her giggle and he can't help one of his own. Mission accomplished. Mostly. Now the part where they go elsewhere to eat. She holds her arms out, so, he sets a box or two in her grip, splitting the load mostly even.]
No problem, Ryder. Glad I could help.
[Now he's grinning. Even as he peers down the street to see no park in sight.]
Could get a ride there. Or try and earn the food with a walk, I guess, but I think we already earned it.
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Ryder scoffs, sounding more judgmental than amused.]
There's -- Never have to earn eating, th-that's -- stupid. [That's stupid!!! Still, after she says it, she frowns to herself.] Guess -- guys like y-you... Job. Um.
[Being hot is sort of a big selling point for escorts, and conventional beauty standards she wants to stab to death, etc., etc. Wait, if he has to subscribe to those -- and maybe wants to, she doesn't fucking know his life -- is she pretty enough to be seen with him? Fuck, maybe she should have...put more effort in. Even if it wasn't something he'd complain about, presumably, that didn't mean it wasn't a bother.]
Um... Y-yeah, we -- can go. Sorry. Walk. Yeah.
[GONNA GET STARTED ON THAT, and perhaps regret the wine chugging a bit. Good thing her boots don't have a crazy heel or anything. She's having a tough enough time balancing while she's continuously kicking herself, ba dum tshh.]
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Oh, no, sorry. Guess that was a shitty thing to say... [He brings a hand up rubbing at his neck.] You're right though. I wouldn't... actually want anyone to feel like they have to earn food.
[Yeah, that's pretty much anti-thesis to anything he believes in. Why'd he have to run his mouth like that?]
I mean, I guess it's a thing. In this job, that is. But I'm not married to this job or anything it's just sort of... I don't know, a gig I picked up. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
[Holy shit, dude, stop talking.]
Anyway. Walking. Right.
[Kill him.]
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Ryder looks over through the curtain of her bangs, chewing on her lip a moment before mumbling. Ahh, how does she ask... Is it normal to ask? To want to know more about that? Is he allowed to talk about that kind of thing? Damn, she can't even figure out how to ask that. Uhhh. Fuck.]
Do -- s'fun? Um... Normally.
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His head tilts up in thought, then he nods.]
Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes it's just work, sometimes it's weird, but generally, it's pretty good. Though I'm not usually this... candid, I guess.
[He smiles wry, then at last, offers his arm.]
You okay there?
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[She's glad for it, though. With how difficult things had been at the beginning, the change in his tone was a relief. He'd been accepting and encouraging, but there had been this little sheen over the top of it that made interacting with him completely intimidating. It's definitely still...hard. For instance, all this keeping track of her feet has her struggling to keep herself from asking how many foot fetishists he'd run into so far. She wants to know, but does she really want to know? Does she really want him to know she wants to know? But she doesn't feel quite as much like praying for death if it happens to slip out, and that's progress. He'd probably just answer her.
The question still catches her offguard, though, to the point that she comes to a complete stop and stares dumbly at his arm. Huh? Oh. Uhhh. Her face is hot again. Words, words... How does she open her mouth and limit it to a metaphorical car crash instead of a metaphorical trainwreck... Ryder jumps a little as someone impatiently pushes through on her other side. She shuffles closer to Teo and starts walking again.]
Um. ...M'okay. Um. [Like, she isn't the most graceful person...and it would probably hit her soon. But it also wasn't enough to make her drunk, she's pretty sure. Plus, looking down when she walks is pretty normal for her, given how much she hates the possibility of meeting someone's eyes and opening a pit to hell, which is absolutely what would happen. So... He doesn't have to...
...Would it be nice to take his arm? Or would it just make her want to scratch her skin off?
Biting down on her lip, Ryder very hesitantly shifts the weight of her food to one arm, tugs at the strap of her clutch, and mentally kicks at the nerves squiggling around her brain and stomach. Her hand is definitely sweaty again. It's a good thing, then, that she's looping her arm with his. Except that feels awkward. Aughhh, she's so unsure. How did girls in movies do this? Mumbled,] Sorry...
[She still looks down at her feet.]
L-like, um... You t-t-talking. [Though...] M's'posed...practice. But I -- but I, um, don't kn-know how...to.
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No. No, it's okay.
[He's the one who's sorry. It is not actually the worst date he's gone on with a client, but it's ranking up there just for him being an idiot. She stares at her shoes and he stares ahead so they don't just walk right past what they're looking for.
She likes his talking. Hell if he knows why.]
You seem to be doing fine to me. [She's stuttering, yeah, but she is in fact talking. He frowns.]
You're supposed to practice...? That... I'm sorry, this is going to sound rude, I'm really not supposed to ask this, but is that why...?
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Trick feet, Sick feet.
Up feet, Down feet.
Here come clown feet.'
It's still really good she doesn't have much of a heel on these, but she can't help that pouty feeling of why can't she have that satisfying click? it'd make a nice beat to Dr. Seuss's The Foot Book. It might center her, or something, like a metronome. Right now she's left to flounder like an idiot, a stutter where rhythm could have been. It breaks even further at the question. Hoo boy, yeah, definitely blushing.]
...Mm. [Ryder gives a sharp nod despite the fact that doing so makes her want to disappear.] ...A c-con -- conver -- sssation hostage. And -- I dunno. Um. Not only practice, I-I -- guess. ...Wanted.
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But she also wanted...? She doesn't finish that sentence, leaving him to guess. This is probably not a wise move.]
Well... I was going to tell the service to refund you. Tell them I had to cancel last minute. I mean, given that I kind of ruined the magic here, I think I owe it to you. But... not to mess with your decision or anything, but if you want more... [Read: a bedroom.] ...then I do have to keep it on the tab. Sorry. [He gives an apologetic look.]
But if you want more conversations, I can give you my number.
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-- Ah. But that wasn't what thing she currently wanted to "what the fuck" about. Refund...? But why? She's been falling over herself and reading into things too deeply. He's the one putting up with her dumb requests, just trying to make the best of a shit situation. It wasn't like any of this was his fault. He should get paid! Keep the money on the tab! To do that -- ]
...If I -- [OH.] Oh.
[Oh??? Ohhh my god. When will the gateway to Hell open up beneath her and swallow her whole? Or, like, chomp down when she's mid-fall and bifurcate her. That's the word she wants, right? Bifurcate? Let's think about how to spell that so maybe her blood will remember to stop being on fire.
It doesn't work. She feels dizzy. There's no point to stopping again, because the more they stop, the longer it takes them to get to the park, where they'll finally eat. ...Ryder doesn't know if she can eat, with how she's vaguely sick, now. But you have to take 'em out to dinner first, it's the law. The law leading to Teo doing his job and being properly rewarded for it, just uhh also the law leading to other stuff.
Okay, no. Think about the road less(?) traveled, Ry. That actually does make sense as a name, seeing as path is labeled "CONVERSATION", which is weird because:
1. people don't talk to her.
2. people would rather use their mouths for things other than talking. Sometimes, if things were nice, there would be talking after, but the impression that she's gotten from Heterosexual Media is that guys kind of aren't fans of that, and honestly she had never expected to be in a position to find out for herself, so she didn't bother looking deeper into it. After all, refer back to the first point!
Ugh... Ryder feels exhausted as she wonders if more time has passed than it seems or less, while she figures out which story branch she's selecting today. She doesn't even remember what the point of all that thinking was. It wasn't like she could answer the questions springing up like horrified rabbits without... Something about Teo with a hunting rifle. With a scope. God, she needs to either shut off her brain completely or get someplace they can sit.]
W...why?
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He feels sorry for speaking. He feels sorry for existing. But unfortunately for everyone, he's here and she's in this situation and he's got to be clear, even if it's harrowing.
His own cheeks color and he shrugs a little helplessly. He keeps himself from glancing away by focusing on the path ahead.]
Ah, safety issue. You know, if one of the escorts gets sick or hurt, good to know what happened where so that others don't get the same, you know...? But, I mean, for legal reasons it'll probably just say "massage"...
[At least, he assumes that's what she's asking 'why' about. He thinks the reason for refunding is pretty obvious. Does she feel wooed? Because she certainly doesn't look like it.]
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