2011-03-19: Saturday Night Fever



Date: March 19, 2011


A promotional gig out of town means a whole new nightlife to explore, or at least sample.

"Saturday Night Fever"

Washington, DC

Nothing like a real date. Well, Portia appreciates them, at least, because it gives her the chance to look extra nice and feel girly for a few hours before meeting up with Randall. That and considering the timing of said date, things are kind of special. Fingers slipped in between Randall's, she hugs his arm just a little as they head inside. "Thanks for taking me out," she says, hardly able to contain her smile.

Randall draws closer, showing off a little, even if maybe it's only in his head. "Out here or out of state?" The latter was a surprise from the studio, building up to next month—

Next month. It doesn't feel real. But, unquestionably, it is. Just like Portia turning a year older— he's long since stopped thinking of her as anything other than a woman, full stop, but there's still a distinct sense of it being just that little bit more official now.

"Wonder what this place is like, anyway?" he adds, taking a look around. "I just picked it out of the hotel guide, it sounded interesting."

"Both. It just… it's nice, you know?" Portia smiles towards him, squeezing his hand gently as she looks towards the restaurant. "Well, does it matter? We're hungry and usually hotel guides have good advice on where to eat."

"Yeah, you're right," says Randall, pulling the door open and waiting for her to head inside. "Too bad we can't take proper advantage of the drink menu… but I was thinking, who says we need to wait till tomorrow to go to the club? I say, once we get outta here, we hit it tonight, incognito."

Blue Door Restaurant

"Incognito is my specialty, so you're in luck," Portia says, moving into the restaurant before she glances around. "I think you're right, though. We should definitely hit it. Might be fun, you know? I could be down for some dancing, too…"

Randall shakes his head. "When are you not down for some dancing? I just wish you could see what it does to your aura— but you can probably feel it, anyway." It's more than just her eyes lighting up that draws his attention, not that it wouldn't be enough. "So the rest of the band's coming in tomorrow morning, right?"

Portia can't help but grin. "I might just do it because you like the show," she suggests, then nods in response to his question. "Yeah, they should all be here tomorrow by nine or ten, I believe." She looks back to him. "So we've got plenty of time to sleep in or grab breakfast before they're around."

Sleep in. In the hotel room. Room, singular. But with twin beds, right? Randall wasn't the one who arranged for the room— and is not at all certain what he would have requested if he had. The whole idea is cheap and tawdry and he can't stop thinking about it.

With a visible effort, he at least shoves the thoughts off to the side a little bit. "They'll have coffee and donuts or something, right? I guess there might be room service but, I dunno, it seems like a bit much— like you're planning to just bum around all day and not actually go anywhere."

"Coffee and donuts, I'm sure, seems pretty reasonable," Portia says, giving his hand a squeeze as they settle down at their table and she takes a seat. "Or it means you're just too tired to get dressed that early in the morning to go get real breakfast." She points out. "I think they stop serving breakfast food at a certain hour anyways, so I think that's the whole point in it. Besides, I suppose when people are hungover they need their food and don't want to go out into the light yet, right?" She's never really been hungover, so she can't say.

There was that one time— well, it's in the past. But yeah, Randall didn't want to face the Daystar that morning, either. "Of course, that's assuming we get any sleep tonight. There's gotta be an all-night diner or something around, right?" Not this place; the employees are already putting up chairs in the back room where no one's sitting any more.

Uhoh. Was that a tiny, tiny, tiny hint of awkwardness between them? Nah, couldn't be. Portia blinks at the mention of an all-night diner. "Guess you're excited about performing, huh?" She asks, peering down at the menu.

"Excited is one word. Nervous is another." Randall turns the menu over, then back again when it turns out to just have the senior portions on that side. "I mean, we've done this sort of thing before, but it really is stepping up lately."

With as much past history as they've got, there's always the possibility of awkwardness, but only when something reminds him of it. It's easy for him to focus more on the present. "What about you? How're your classmates taking the whole idea? I always picture them joining up with the Philharmonic or something in a few years— big things, but different big things, you know?"

"They're okay. They don't take it too seriously, but a lot of them aren't writing their own stuff. They're content to play others' work and things like that. Orchestral stuff, you know?" Portia points out, peering through the menu quietly for a moment before she speaks up again. "I think we're doing good, though. We're making it big and all we're doing all the time is improving. I think we've got a serious career for sure, now. I think it's all proving that, now."

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