2007-05-04: Being Unreasonable

Starring:

Desmond_icon.gif Gwen_icon.gif

Summary:

Gwen and Desmond meet at the Fly By Night. Things are happily unreasonable.

May 4th, 2007:

Being Unreasonable


Fly By Night Cocktail Bar

It's been some time since he returned from his trip to Vegas, and though the anonymity of the desert city was enjoyable (as was the money he won at the casinos), Desmond is glad to be back in his native element. Fly By Night doesn't have slots or blackjack tables, but it /does/ have some incredible martinis and a nice relaxing atmosphere in which to sit and drink them. Desmond Cusick has tucked himself away in a quiet little pocket of the second story, where things are much more ideal for relaxation. There is a martini in one hand, but his attention is on the other patrons of the bar. He fits in well, dressed in a sharp and expensive black suit with a red tie.

Speaking of incredible martinis, Gwen is on her second one and enjoying it very much so. The woman looks dynamite tonight, a silky red dress and her curly hair pulled up into a french twist. She's had enough of the downstairs, and that's mostly where the commoners are. So not for her. Ascending the stairs slowly and carefully, she holds her martini just so in order to not spill a single drop. Once at the top, her eyes survey those upstairs as she walks, trying to find just who she may want to attach herself to for the evening. And spotting the lone Desmond among the paired and grouped off others, she makes her way over. Putting a hand on the comfortable chair opposite of him, she smiles and tilts her head just a bit. "My, but this chair looks lonely."

Having been focused on an especially fetching lady (and her backless dress) seated at the bar, Desmond is oblivious to Gwen's approach until he spots a glimpse of red in his peripheral vision. This is only an instant before the woman in question speaks, and he's just in time to turn his head so that his left ear is not the one intercepting her words. The man quirks an eyebrow, smiling coyly as he sizes up the woman quickly and deftly before he casually responds, "That's because you are not sitting in it." He gives an inviting nod toward the chair as he shifts his weight a little to better face her.

Slipping into the chair, Gwen takes a quick sip of her martini so there's less to spill. Just in case. "Glad we agree on that." Crossing her legs at the ankles, she smiles at Desmond in greeting. "So, are you the kind that does the normal twenty questions or should we simply skip that and start talking about something interesting?" Not noticing his need to shift to hear better or for any other reason, she angles herself so that she's a little closer.

"You mean, am I the sort who likes to chat for hours about what a girl like you is doing in a place like this, the weather, and the Yankees, only to have an awkward fumble as to whose place we should go to afterward?" chuckles Desmond quietly, angling his head slightly to one side, smile growing. "No. I believe I grew out of that phase in high school. I do, however, like to know names." He leans forward, keeping his martini expertly upright as he extends his free hand toward Gwen. "Desmond."

"You mean men grow out of their high school phase?" Gwen looks generally surprised for a moment before her lips twitch upward into a smile. "Ah, see, now you are going for the normal and boring. Names." She studies Desmond, the smile never fading from her face. "But, I guess we have to start out somewhere." Taking his free hand in hers, she shakes it gently. "Anna." Why bother giving out her real name if she doesn't know what this is going to turn out to be?

The smile splits into a grin briefly, Desmond's own half of the shake also quite gentle, though his grip is firm enough. "Believe it or not, some of us actually do manage to make it out of the high school phase successfully." His grin only grows when she offers a name. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Anna. I must say you look quite stunning in that dress." The look he's giving her contains subtle undertones that would suggest that she might look even /more/ stunning when out of that dress, but he has too much class to really leer.

"Pleasure to meet you, too," 'Anna' replies, the smile staying in place. What with all the names she gives out, Gwen can respond to just about anything. Part of the business. "I guess I've been unfortunate in my meetings, then." Plucking out the toothpick with three olives still swimming in her drink, she carefully bites one off and chews it thoughtfully. "Thank you." Not an idiot when it comes to these things, she hears that undertone and gives a cat who at the canary smile. "It's one of my favorites. But I'm sure you can think up a better compliment than that."

"There are several things I could think of that are much better than that compliment," Desmond retorts casually, taking a sip from his martini. "That makes it no less true. I could compliment the color of your eyes, your smile, your hair, how flattering this particular light is to your skin and the shape of your face; I could even go so far as to say that you are simply too exquisite and perfect for this world — but something tells me you have fielded these and more in the past, and why should I tell a woman something she already knows?" He smiles.

Hm. This guy is smooth. Gwen likes smooth. Instead of sipping on her martini, she simply holds it carefully, balancing the bottom on the arm of her chair. While certainly pleased, she doesn't let too much of that seep through. Just enough to show how she takes that statement. "Because what girl doesn't like to hear she's perfect?" Gwen certainly does. "You know how they say that flattery will get you everywhere."

Desmond smiles wider, wryly. "You are perfect," he states, raising his glass a little as though to emphasize this fact. "But there, you see? It is like giving a gift to someone who has it all. What /do/ I say to you when all of it has been said before? It seems almost cheap to use lines that you've already heard. There is no freshness, no spontaneity." Oh, the humanity. He grins now, cocking his head to one side. "Do you dance, Anna?"

Oh, but Gwen doesn't care if she's heard the words over and over again. She could be told she's perfect for a very long time and never grow tired of it. "Oh, I'm sure you can think of something exciting and new." And she's not just inflating his ego, either. "Honey, you dance with me and you're never going to be able to dance with some other girl. I ruin men for dancing." But, she's got a lazy smile before she takes a long sip from her martini glass. "If you think you can handle it…I can't be held responsible." Not that Gwen ever holds herself responsible for anything.

"I'll take my chances." Though it's not his forte on the stage, Desmond has done his fair share of dancing must more rigorous than the usual ballroom variety. He, too, takes a long pull from his martini before setting it aside on a nearby table. "I think better on my feet anyway; perhaps I will come up with something you have not heard before." He rises to his feet and offers a hand to help Gwen onto hers. "Shall we?"

"I like a man with bravery." There's a smirk there, but Gwen doesn't retort any further. Finishing off her martini and dropping her toothpick of olives into the empty glass, she sets it back down on the table near Desmond's. Then, she puts her hand into Desmonds and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. "Looks like we shall."

Once on the dance floor, Desmond takes up the usual opening position and starts to lead smoothly. He hasn't been schooled expertly, however he moves gracefully and without any real flaw. It's a few moments before he's speaking again, carefully ensuring that he's safely in the groove of things before adding anything to complicate matters. "It must be fate, really, my wearing this tie and your wearing that dress. We match."

On the dance floor, Gwen allows Desmond to lead. Putting a hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist, she moves through the movements quite easily. Like she boasted, she is really quite a good dancer. Especially when she's not too many drinks in. Then she's an /amazing/ dancer, but those moves normally require less clothing. "Fate's boring, too, darlin'. It's for a bunch of people who can't make up their own minds."

"Au contraire," retorts Desmond with a quiet chuckle, "some would say Fate is the glue that adheres us to life. I don't use it as an excuse so much as an explanation." He steps back to spin Gwen out and in again, managing the maneuver with the same flair as the rest of the dance. "Would you prefer the dull idea of coincidence?"

"Those are the same people who buy crocheted pillows that say 'take life one day at a time'," Gwen retorts as she's being spun. This is the point where she'd flip her hair if it weren't pulled back. But, that's just as well. "Coincidence, fate, it's all the same thing. Things happen, why bother trying to make up reasons for them all?" Swaying her hips a little, she smiles. None of this is too much of a serious conversation for her.

"Fate is the best reason of all, you see, for it is in and of itself /not/ a reasonable explanation." Desmond is quite enjoying this conversation. He likes philosophy. He likes debates. "Fate allows us /not/ to reason, in fact, by offering a very simple explanation, which in turn allows us to forsake the more reasonable." He grins again briefly. "I'm sorry, I seem to be talking in circles."

Unfortunately for Desmond, Gwen doesn't really care about philosophy one way or another. She went to school for baking specifically so she wouldn't have to deal with conversations of any deep matter. "You are, but I'll forgive you just this once." Quite happy to leave any sort of debate behind, she smiles. "And I was never a fan of being reasonable. Reasonable is so ordinary."

Just as well. Much as he enjoys debate and philosophy, Desmond is about as shallow as they come. Good looks are really the only deciding factor in anything to do with dancing and the like. He arches one eyebrow, smirking. "Oh really? And what do you consider /un/reasonable? Dinner at the Tabla, a limousine to take us there and back? Or is there something else?"

Is there more to life than dancing and the like? Well, if there is, Gwen doesn't want to know what it is. "I think you may have found the perfect cure to being reasonable. Limos are the the most unreasonable way to get anywhere." In other words, the best. Swaying forward, she makes sure her arm is snugly about Desmond's waist. "What more could there be?"

Likewise, Desmond's hand on Gwen's lower back presses inward just slightly, subtly encouraging that forward movement even the tiniest bit. "That would depend on just how unreasonable you would wish to be. You see, I have a jacuzzi at home and oft times it seems a little empty. Somehow, I think you would be a wonderful addition to it." Another grin. "My house is quite unreasonable in and of itself."

When Desmond pulls her closer, Gwen easily slides forward so that she's just gently pressing against him in all the right places. "Oh, now, you put me in such a dilemma. I don't normally wear a bathing suit to bars." Walking her hand up from his shoulder to draping around her neck, she leans in so her lips are right next to his ear. The good one, though she doesn't know that yet. "We'd have to skinny dip," she whispers, the smile plain in her voice.

Mmhmmhmmhmm. There's the faintest of chuckles from Desmond, who obligingly ducks his head a little to catch that whisper. Gwen may not have intentionally gone for his good ear, but he intentionally made it the most available of the two. Who would want to miss a whisper like that? The man grins again, pleased, and murmurs right back, "That sounds appropriately unreasonable, and why wait? I can have a limo here in two minutes and we can be off on our unreasonable adventure."

"A man with initiative and bravery." Gwen sounds duly impressed. "So what are we waiting for?" Grinning, she starts walking backward without letting go of Desmond. All the better to pull him along with her. "I have a feeling we have a long night of unreasnableness ahead of us."

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