InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You're already broken."

Amelia Drake (howlingred) wrote in oceancove,
@ 2011-08-23 22:12:00

Entry tags:

c: amelia drake, c: hugh cadigan

Who: Amelia Drake & Hugh Cadigan.
What: A promised, grown up dinner.
Where: Bocelli's Italian restaurant.
When: Evening.
Rating: TBD

Amelia had been kicked out of her own shop by Keita. The kitsune, who apparently was fed up with her pacing and the constant need to fix and adjust things had taken her shop keys and promised to close up and complete the nightly drop. Earlier in the day she had contacted Hugh, dropping into the conversation the dinner they had agreed on before he left the Cove. She hadn't expected the quick turn about and rapid fire discussion, and the decision to go out later that evening. The rest of the day, she was constantly in motion, and had made enough cupcakes and sweets to keep the shop open for the next six days without needing to bake anything. Only slightly worried about how she was going to unload the extra pastries on unsuspecting people, she left the shop, lead by a firm hand on her elbow, as Keita chattered about 'having a good time', and 'not worrying about opening the next morning'.

It was mid afternoon when she arrived at home. Far too early to get dressed for an evening out, she opted on cleaning the entire house. And painting the kitchen, which only created more mess, and the issue of paint on her hands, and the fact that no matter how hard she scrubbed it wouldn't come off. Deciding to peel the paint from her fingers, she plopped down on the couch, lost to the lure of daytime television.

The sun had started to set, sending long shadows into her living room. She clicked off the television, showered, and spent far too long deciding on what to wear. Amelia gnawed at a thumbnail, stared at the contents of her closet before selecting a cream colored halter dress that floated away from the body--leaving her hair loose and in waves. It was casual enough not to put on airs, but at the same time nice enough that she looked like she spent hours getting ready. Which she had, in her own roundabout way. Low rise black pumps and a black clutch were snagged at the last moment, and it wasn't until she was behind the wheel of her SUV that she had forgotten the jewelry laid out on the bed. It would have been a distraction anyway. Nerves would have caused her to play with it all evening, and that wouldn't do.

She wasn't sure why she was so nervous. It wasn't a date. Two adults having dinner, in a grown up setting alone. Amelia stabbed at the button to unroll the window, a flush coming to her cheeks at the flashes of the evening they had time they had before it was interrupted. She could almost hear Eamon's amusement.

It sounded like a date, the more she thought about it. Telling herself that it didn't matter, she pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. The night was mild, streets quiet, despite it being early. She waited outside the restaurant, a little early.

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fuzzydiplomat
2011-08-24 04:38 pm UTC (link)

It looked like a small haberdashery had exploded in Hugh Cadigan's bedroom.

Ties of every stripe lay knotted on the bed; half a dozen cufflinks sat lined up on the night stand, like macabre gold teeth from a dentist's surplus supply. A couple of shirts crawled across the bed while three pairs of shoes were making a break for the door. Amelia's phone call had come in the middle of one of his morning meetings. He'd excused himself to take the call, pacing the small corridor between offices while he plugged his ear with the edge of his thumb. She didn't know what he was up to this evening, but she was free and did he perhaps want to have dinner together? He had replied that yes, he did eat, and he would be happy to do so again with her.

The both of them had avoiding using the "d-word" in the conversation, stepping around it as if it were a linguistical leper. They agreed on eight o'clock.

As he dressed, he attempted to parse out what had prompted her call. Sure, they'd agreed to do dinner back before he'd left for Budapest, but that was before Budapest -- when they had both been so confused by one another that being in the same room had turned into a nightmare of pheromones. That woman," Hugh thought, gritting his teeth while he looped a knot in his (fourth) tie. It was her fault that his bedroom looked like it had been picked up and shaken apart; she just did things to his brain that made him think every piece of clothing he owned was like burlap sacking. He finally chose charcoal and cream, and a belt with a buckle that was just ostentatious enough to be on the right side of 'appropriate.' Pinstriped blazer (though it was still hot as hell at night) and a pair of black shoes, mute finish. He discovered that he was too jumpy to attach cufflinks, so he put them into his pocket for when he had gotten his sangfroid back.

The Cove stretched out like a pelt of light and shadow on his left side. The ocean was mostly calm, with a few whitecaps curling toward the shore. Hugh could see bonfires on the beach; could smell the sharp tang of woodsmoke when he rolled down the window of his car. He bumped into the parking lot of the restaurant at five-to-eight. 'Palmed his keys and crossed the parking lot, looking for the familiar swish of red hair.

When he saw her, the noise of the city and the parking lot fell away. It was like he had tunnel vision; it was only her, that dress (that dress) and the way the suspended twinkle lights above the awning influenced both.

He took a breath.

"Amelia...wow....you look...."

you could make a necklace out of all those ellipses. He collected his smile and her hand

"Stunning, is what I meant to say, before I lost the ability to pronounce all vowels. You definitely have that effect in that dress."

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howlingred
2011-08-24 05:38 pm UTC (link)

She had half talked herself out of it, even though it was originally her call. Surely, Hugh would understand the pressing matters of the pack, certainly if they were of utmost importance and secrecy. The other half of her mind chided her. Amelia mentally called herself names that would probably even make Eamon blush, if such a feat was possible.

Hugh's scent rolled across the parking lot before she actually saw the man. It comforted her in a way that she couldn't explain, calmed her. Amelia smiled, ducked her head, biting back laughter at his reaction.

"You look good." She couldn't quite look at him full on, scared of simply staring slack-jawed at the man. He did look good, as usual, but there was something extra.

"It's just a dress. I mean it's nothing really all that special," to her horror her mouth wouldn't stop working. "I couldn't pick, so I randomly grabbed, and I guess I lucked out." In an effort to cease her rambling, she caught her lower lip between her teeth, color once more rising on her face.

"Thank you." I'm just one of the boys my ass Amelia thought. She was acting more like a teenage girl than the somewhat refined woman her mother groomed her to be. "Should we go in? I don't think they do a to-go menu." A pale attempt at a joke.