2007-02-14: Valentines Aren't Just for Lovers


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In order to avoid being alone on Singles Awareness Day, Jack and Eliana meet up at an Irish pub for drinks and light conversation.

Date It Happened: February 14th, 2007

Valentines Aren't Just for Lovers

Downtown, NYC - Oldcastle Pub and Restaurant

One of the enjoyable things about nice Irish pubs is that there is always space to tuck yourself away. Seeing as it's only their fourth outing together, Eliana and Jack have chosen the Oldcastle for their Valentine's Day outing, where there is little to no romantic pressure. Eliana's still wearing her clothes from work - a medium pink blouse under a fitted black blazer, black trousers, and heeled, black boots. The two are sitting in a small corner booth, and Eliana is sipping a Black and Tan. "You know," she says when she sets the glass down again, "I know we're not…well, anything but trusted friends, I guess, but I'm glad I have someone to go /do/ something with tonight."

"I'm inclined to agree, lass. It's my first Valentine's in the big city, and I'm glad not to spend it alone." Jack leans back in his chair and stretches briefly, eliciting a protesting creak from the shoulder seams of his black, calf-length leather jacket. He shrugs out the garment and folds it over the back of a nearby chair. Beneath it he's wearing a pale blue sweater, dark grey slacks, and well-shined shoes. He takes a sip from his own glass, bourbon neat, then leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"You really haven't been here that long, huh?" Eliana asks with a smile. She puts her own elbows on the table, letting the tips of her fingers float over the rim of her glass.

Jack smiles back and nods. "Less than six months, but it's been so crazy it seems like much longer," he rumbles. He takes another sip from his glass, then sets it down. "How about you?" He queries. "You a transplant, or a native?"

"That's a nice word for it," the pink-haired woman laughs out, leaning back a bit. "A transplant. I came up here for school and just, well, never left."

"Seems like that happens to a lot of folks around here. Either that or they come here to get themselves lost, like me," Jack smiles and shakes his head ruefully. As a cocktail waitress passes he flags her down and signals her to bring a fresh round. "Another black and tan?"

Eliana is lifting her glass to take a sip when Jack asks the question, and so nods before she polishes off her first. "Please," she says as she sets the now empty glass down again. "Maybe that's why they call it the Big Apple."

"I thought they called it the Big Apple to take attention away from all the smog," Jack quips. He tosses back the rest of his bourbon and nods to the wairess, who hurries off. Now he lowers his voice and leans farther in. "Did you hsve a chance to peek at that book you swiped from me?"

Eliana's theory on the city's moniker is delayed when Jack asks his question, and once she's done the obligatory, nonchalant glance-about, she leans in as well. "A flipped through it a little. Amber was right," and this she says half to herself. "A lot of it reads like a bad tabloid."

Jack cocks one eyebrow dubiously at Eliana's response. "You've seen what I can do," he murmurs. "What's so difficult to believe about it all?" Perhaps it's just easier for Jack because he grew up in a household with Evolved parents.

Eliana shakes her head, holding up a hand. "Jack, I didn't say I didn't believe it. I'm just saying that it could stand to be /written/ better."
Jack snorts and shrugs. "Fair enough. No accounting for taste on an author's part, I suppose." He pauses when the waitress comes back around with the drinks and nods to her gratefully.

"I mean," Eliana says once the waitress is gone, making sure to keep her voice down, but pausing to take a sip of the new drink delivered to her. "Some of the facts make sense. I dunno. I think it would be different if there were /more/ things written about…well, about it. But I can see why that would be difficult."

"Aye, much of what is know is educated theory, at best." Jack takes a slug of his bourbon, then reaches into the jacket at his side and pulls out a slim silver case and lighter. He flips it open, takes out a slim, black cigarillo, then offers the case to Eliana.

Nicotine was the one vice (since alcohol is more of an American social pastime) that Eliana picked up in college. English and theater majors both have bad habits. She takes a cigarillo from the case and slips it between her glossed lips before she leans over to get a light from Jack. In the process, she can't help but smile a bit coyly.

About to spark the lighter, Jack shakes his head at the last second and tucks it away along with the case. Then he produces a stick match with a snap of his fingers and strikes it on the table. "These are so good, it's a shame to ruin them with lighter fluid," he says by way of explaination as he reaches forward with the lit match cupped in his palms.

Eliana can't help but chuckle and nod at the decision. She closes her eyes as her cigarillo is lit, bringing her hand up to take it from her mouth so that she can turn her head and expel the first few puffs of sweet smelling smoke. "I guess when Darwin first published the Origin of the Species, he caught a lot of flak. This isn't much different."

"Aye. Most scientific visionaries are considered mad when first their theories meet with public opionion." Jack frowns, glances around, then, relocates his own cigarillo off of the table an between his teeth. He lights it from the same match and takes a deep draw of his own.

Eliana leans back in her seat, looking utterly content with the smoke and company. "I guess all we need is time, hm? I mean, aren't some of Darwin's theories accepted as fact now?"

Jack nods agreeably and scoops up his bourbon for another sip before responding. "Yeah. At least by most scientific folk. Unfortunately, good ideas can take a while to catch on."

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