2007-07-11: Bonding and Breakfast


Aileen_icon.gif George_icon.gif

Summary: Immediately after Drinks and Darts. Aileen and George arrive at her apartment. They chat, he spends the night in her guest room, and winds up making her breakfast as thanks.

Date It Happened: July 11th, 2007-July 12th, 2007

Bonding and Breakfast

#3701 - Prestige Midtown Apts, New York City

They aren't far from the apartment, and Aileen leads the way inside and up to the third floor where Aileen fumbles with the keys and opens the door to the apartment. While she's normally pretty calm in every situation, it all has her a bit on edge. It was two crazy nights in a row. She carefully opens the door and moves inside.

George follows up the stairs, keeping his left hand behind his back and his right on the railing. After following her in, he leans back against the wall and relaxes a little. "Thanks. One thing I will say— the Big Apple certainly keeps you on your toes."

Settling against the door as she shuts it, Aileen waits a moment before heading over to the couch. The apartment itself is pretty nice, very clean, as well as comfortable. "I know what you mean. Is there anything I can get for you?" She moves to sit down on the couch.

Despite his ease of mind about the apartment itself - it's not that different from his own - George remains where he is. "I ripped my shirt up pretty bad back there. You have anything I can patch it up with, at least long enough to make it back home?"

"Yeah. Have a seat?" She gestures to the couch, moving to grab a sewing kit from a nearby drawer. Aileen offers a smile. "Wanna try and fix it yourself or do you want me to?"

George shrugs, walking forward and sitting down as indicated. Yeah, there's a sizable hole back there in the back, extending almost all the way across. "Either way. I dunno, you think it can actually be fixed, without being really obvious?" Even if it could, that's an awful lot of trouble to go to, surely.

Aileen glances at the hole, shaking her head a little. "Sorry that this happened. I'll do what I can to fix it." She threads a needle carefully, smiling in his direction. "Don't worry. I'm pretty good at stitching things up, myself." She moves to sit next to him.

"You'd have to be," he replies, leaning forward just enough to steady himself. "Be careful, though, I'm not on any anesthetic— unless you count the Wicked, and I think the adrenaline rush burned through most of that." Adrenaline and a few other things, he doesn't add out loud. "So… when do you need to get back to the hospital, anyway?"

"Don't worry, I promise it won't hurt." Aileen leans in, moving to sew up the shirt as she looks back to him. "Not for a while. I've actually been working a pretty long week already, so I'm due for a few days off."

George glances over his shoulder. "Well, good— I'd hate to think I was keeping you up late, otherwise. I'm on call in the morning myself, but the first hour of that's just phone calls anyway. Never can count on the subway." At this point, something in his expression darkens, and he falls quiet.

"Always fun when you're on call." Aileen rolls her eyes at that, carefully working on trying to stitch the shirt up. "You alright?" She questions, her gaze staying on him.

George shrugs a little, the gesture necessarily subdued due to the needlework in progress. "You heard about that hijacking, about a week ago? I was in that car. Someone tried to get to the guy and he went /right/ for the kids… not even a 'back off or they get it', just…" He shakes his head. "At least they got taken down before they got to anyone else."

Finishing the sitching and snipping the extra thread, Aileen glances back at him, her expression a little wider. She sets her sewing kit aside, shifting on the couch to focus on him more. "My god.. are you okay?" She asks. "That must have been.. pretty horrible."

George turns sideways, leaning against the back of the couch. "It was. I'm all right, though." The mother, on the other hand, will probably be in therapy for a good long while yet. "Fortunately, that sort of thing is still pretty rare… it seems worse because there're so many people in one place."

"New York isn't the safest, sometimes." Aileen admits, giving a slow nod. "I'm glad you're alright though. I'm sure it must have been tough to go through."

"Well, what about you?" Instinctively, a hand reaches out in the general direction of the nearest shoulder. "I'm sure there are highs to go with the lows, but still… nobody comes in for brain surgery unless they're in real rough shape, right?"

Her shoulder is touched, and Aileen nods. "It's true… a lot of the cases I get are life or death. If I do the right thing, they get a whole second chance at life. Sometimes I lose them, yes.. but I have to remind myself that if I hadn't tried, they would have died anyways."

George inclines his head, but doesn't say anything right away, just lets the moment speak for itself. After a while, he shifts on the couch and speaks up again. "I guess I should call a cab, then. What time is it?" He glances around for a clock or a VCR or something.

"Right. Oh, I'm sure it's getting late." Aileen recalls, glancing around for a moment before she looks over to the clock. "Just after midnight." She remarks before her gaze shifts back to him.

GAME: George has rolled WILLPOWER and got a result of AVERAGE.

George nods, fishing out his phone and trying some numbers. No answer at that one. Or at that one, either. Finally, on the third try— "Hour and a half? You're kidding. Well, no, I guess the bars keep you pretty tied up, huh." He leans back and rolls his eyes as he continues to listen.

Shifting on the couch, Aileen glances back to George. "You know.. you're more than welcome to stay here, if you'd like. Got a study that doubles as a guest room.." She comments quietly, as he is still on the phone.

"Yeah? Thanks," he murmurs, before returning to the phone call. "I'll pass, thanks. No, I understand, nothing you can— Right, okay." The phone is hung up and stowed. "Thank you," he repeats, "I appreciate it."

Aileen offers a smile. "Don't mention it. Least I can do. Who knows what would've happened if I'd been walking alone again. I'd wager I'm the unluckiest woman alive, at this rate. Or I'm having the worst week ever." She smiles again. "Besides, it'll be nice having the company. Don't get a lot of houseguests."

George shakes his head. "Oh, I doubt that, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten through it like you did." He leans in, the passing contact moving into a full-on hug, before straightening up a little and looking around for where the other rooms are to be found.

Aileen hugs him for a moment before she gestures off towards a doorway. "That's the guest room, whenever you want to.. sleep." She nods to him.

July 12th, 2007

Time passes. Outside, the Great Bright Evilness (tm) emerges. Inside, George stirs, sits up and gets back into a semblance of a decent outfit, and pads out to the kitchen. Bacon will be pulled out of the freezer, if there is any.

George would find that there was indeed bacon, as well as enough fixings for a good breakfast. Soon enough, Aileen stirs. For a while, she forgets she even has a houseguest, moving about into the master bathroom to shower and get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, she emerges from the bedroom, dressed but hair slightly damp.

The scrambled eggs are plain, save for a light touch of salt and pepper. He tried mixing stuff into them once, and it came out every bit as lumpy and bad-tasting as the country's worst roadside diners, so he knows better than to waste time trying that again. The simple approach works okay, though, and the bacon grease is crackling just loudly enough that George doesn't hear the shower going, much less the swimming-pool beauty that results.

With the bacon crackling, he may not even hear Aileen as she approaches, leaning against the kitchen's doorframe as she watches him. "I didn't win at darts. So how come you're making breakfast?" She's smiling, a mischivious look on her face.

George turns and returns the smile. "Oh, figured I owed you for the crash spa— ow!" he adds, shaking his hand as a bit of the grease flares up and spatters onto it. Shooting the pan a dirty look, he goes over to the sink and runs some cold water over it. The karma from last night was bound to hit his body directly, sooner or later, it just took a little while to catch up.

Aileen blinks as he's spattered by the bacon grease, moving to go take a look at his hand. "You alright? You're in luck. I just /happened/ to be a doctor." She grins, keeping an eye on the pan.

George makes a face. "I'll keep that in mind if there's any nerve damage. I think it's fine." He withdraws the hand and shakes it a little, landing a few harmless spots on the repaired shirt. "Are you always this good-humored five minutes after rolling out of bed?" Okay, so he still hasn't noticed the signs of the shower, but hey, there's a lot going on here.

"Only when I have something worth waking up for?" Aileen smiles slyly at him, leaning against the counter. "Thanks for making breakfast."

George turns and smirks, though he does have enough presence of mind not to lean against the stove. "For God's sake, Dr. Kincade," he starts, looking impish. "Here we are, you've got me into your apartment. You buy me a drink, you put on music…"

"Believe me, Mr. Dawson, this really was not what I intended when I walked into that bar." Aileen smiles back over at him. "But I wouldn't change situations for the world. In spite of all the chaos, it has been the nicest evening I've had in a very long time."

"It did end up a lot of fun, didn't it?" he replies, dropping the earlier line and switching off the stove. There's some rummaging around for plates and silverware. "So what was the last really nice evening before this one?"

"Would you laugh if I say I've been so busy I don't even remember the last time I've had a nice evening like this?" Aileen smiles, pointing out where the dishes and silverware are while she fishes for some orange juice and pours up two glasses.

George shakes his head. "No, I'd say you need some coffee. I think you're still sleepwalking a bit." Stepping out of your way, he reaches out and brushes a lock of hair away from your nose, before walking over to the table and setting the plates down.

Aileen laughs, glancing back over at George. "Maybe I am. Good dreams don't tend to make me want to wake up, after all." She actually blushes a fair bit at the gesture, bringing the glasses over to the table to sit down. "So do you save every girl you meet at a bar from being mugged, or am I special?"

George shoots you a look. Is he That Guy, who meets lots of girls at bars in the first place, or isn't he? "Actually, that was only the second time I've seen a mugging. And the other time was right on the tail end— they were already grabbing the cash and booking. No one hurt too badly, thank God."

Aileen looks a little embarassed at having asked that question, but she smiles back towards him. "Mm. Well, one more mugging than I, then. Here's to hoping that neither of us run into any more."

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