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Neil Donovan is (incharge) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-05-07 16:54:00

Who: Neil and Sam
What: A date. (1/2)
Where: The Grill.
When: Reeecently.
Warnings/Rating: None.

Up until very, very recently, Neil felt as though every choice he’d made was wrong, that despite good intentions he had only managed to make things progressively worse until he truly began to believe that he was incapable of doing anything but destroy everything he touched. Ash hadn’t completely turned her back on him, at least, but he could tell Louis was quickly losing whatever patience he had left for him, and he suspected their relationship had been damaged beyond repair. It saddened him, in a way few things did, but he thought that Louis deserved more than having to worry about his failure of a brother all the time. Maybe it was better if he learned how to let go, and they kept their distance. As for Sam, he’d thought he had entirely destroyed whatever was left between them, but somehow Lin had given him new perspective.

And hell, his advice was the best he’d heard since all this shit had started happening.

A date was something he and Sam and never gotten around to, not in any real sense. Not without baggage or something hanging over their heads. Not that either didn’t apply in this situation, because they did, but Neil was hoping this could be something akin to a fresh start for them. Why not, right?

He took a cab to the garage and paid the driver enough to ensure he waited, before stepping out and approaching, hands in his pockets. What Neil defined as ‘casual’ wasn’t quite what the ordinary person did--his jeans were obviously expensive, white shirt crisp and clean--but at least there were no suits, no black, and certainly no tie. Something low-key was what he had in mind, quiet rather than loud and crowded.

She considered dressing up, but she realized she'd only be worried about him and some stupid fucking outfit, so she decided against it. Still, the shit she had at the garage was the kind of thing that went well at a garage - greasy jeans and button-downs with everyone's name in the place on them, all borrowed after bailing from Aria with more shit in her bag that wasn't clothing, than anything else. Oh, sure, yeah, she'd stolen some of Neil's work shirts and boxers, but those had quickly become sleepwear, and she was left with greasy and greasier for dinner, and neither fucking worked. But she had a paycheck now, however small it fucking was, and she went out and found a new pair of snug jeans, ones that emphasized the fact that she'd gained back some weight since her last fuck up. She paired them with a new shirt, inky blue, long sleeves, a v-neck, and snug enough to bunch a little at her belly. Boots, loose hair and a hint of eyeliner and gloss, and she at least felt like she wasn't trying too fucking hard. For all she knew, she might get into a car or cab with Neil and lose her shit. She tried not to think about it, but it could happen; better to play it casual, in case this thing died at the sidewalk.

The garage was your typical, run of the mill place. It was off the strip, and the pumps had died ages ago, and everything had a feeling of being old and rundown. It was the kind of place people went to when they needed shit cheap, and the whole fucking joint was oddly grey. By eight at night, it was also empty, and the only light was in the front office, where Sam had gotten in the habit of lining the windows with aluminum. She hadn't bothered tonight; not yet, anyway.

Even from outside, the aria was audible, the sound completely fucking incongruous with the place. It was tinny, on small speakers, but it carried out the singular, open bay that Sam had asked Carlos to keep open when he left for the night. Around the open bay door was the front office, the door propped open with a cement block. Sam was sitting on a beat-up metal stool, a mostly-blank canvas in front of her, and a thick brush with piled-on blue in her hand. Yeah, so she'd lied to Iris about not being to paint at work, but she hadn't wanted to turn her sister down completely again. She heard the idling cab, and she glanced out the front window. "Hey?" she called out, when she didn't catch anyone in the cab's backseat.

The aria made him think of Erik, of his conversation with Ash about their past alters, and he paused, a strange sense of melancholy coming over him for a moment. For all the complaining he’d done about the deranged musician, he was a hell of a lot better than Norman Osborn. If he were given a choice, he’d take Erik back in a heartbeat, but unfortunately the world simply didn’t work that way. He shook it off, because there was no use dwelling on the past; he’d done that enough already, and like he’d told Lin it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. It didn’t fit with the place at all, the music; it was definitely a run down garage, nowhere fancy. He wouldn’t take his car(s) here, for instance. But he wasn’t going to begrudge Sam her job, especially not when he still lived off family money and pretended he was actually doing something with his life. He didn’t exactly like the thought of her sleeping here, but one step at a time, right?

He started moving again when he heard Sam call out, and the light coming from the front office was a pretty good indication of where he was headed. Yeah, he realized this could potentially go very, very badly, but he was hoping otherwise, and he went through the open bay door to the door of the front office, where he paused. “Hey.”

She had already moved away from that dingy front window by the time he rounded the bay door and came into view of the office she'd turned into a temporary home. The couch was old, and the blanket tossed over it was even older, and she reached down onto it to pick up her keys, which she shoved into the front pocket of her jeans with fairly decent control of her fingers. Her fingers were ok these days, as long as she didn't need to hold something as thin and narrow as a pen or a handle anything as delicate as the line of fire that emitted from the end of a metalworking torch. She slipped her thumbs into the holes she'd worked into the ends of the shirt, ensuring the sleeves didn't flip up and betray scars that were healed, but still red and angry looking against the paleness of her skin. She turned off the aria last, and she did all of it without looking up to see him. She knew he was there, sure, yeah, because that hey didn't belong to anyone else. Even without the accent, she'd know his fucking voice anywhere. So, yeah, she flicked the light switch without looking up, and she pointed out, out toward the open bay. "Let me lock up, yeah?"

And, sure, she'd been alone with him in that room at Future Promise, but that was different than being alone with him here. There was no one around, and she had to remind herself- No, fuck that; she didn't need to remind herself of anything. Her breathing had sped up, and her heart rate had done the same, and fuck it. She wasn't going to be scared, yeah? She grabbed his sleeve, her grip nowhere near as tight as it once had been, and she tugged him out the way he'd come, out into the Vegas night, where that cab idled off the curb. She nodded toward the bay door a second later, letting go of his sleeve. "Yank that down?" she asked him, the key coming out of her pocket and offered forth, so he could lock it once it was down.

She'd look at him in a minute, once his back was turned with the task at hand. She breathed.

For all that Neil missed on a regular basis, he certainly noticed the way she deliberately avoided looking at him now. Maybe his heart sank a little, and maybe he wondered if this was such a good idea after all, but it was too late. He was here; might as well make the best of it. Admittedly, the fact that they’d been alone together once before might have lulled him into a false sense of hope, since he didn’t really register the difference between that and this. He watched her as she moved, taking in her sleeping arrangements while he did so, and he waited, trying to backtrack until he expected nothing at all. No expectations were good; couldn’t be disappointed that way. “Yeah, sure,” he said, of her locking up. He wasn’t expecting her to touch him, not with all the lack of eye contact going on, though his sleeve didn’t really count as contact, did it? Regardless, he let himself be tugged out, and he took the key carefully, ensuring his fingers didn’t brush hers in the process. Better to let her initiate contact, if she wanted it, and he was pretty sure that was a really big if.

He turned dutifully, key in hand, and did as she instructed. He pulled down the door with minimal difficulty, locking it once it was in place and testing the lock to ensure it clicked. Admittedly, he tried to drag it out, to make it last, figuring she could use the time to... to what? To not freak out and call the whole thing off? Maybe. Once he was done, Neil straightened up and walked back to where she stood, holding out the key. “All done.” There. He could be casual.

She didn't notice the way he intentionally kept from letting his fingers touch hers. She was too busy with space and distance and figuring out if she could breathe. She watched his shoulders when he turned, and she watched the broad expanse of his back. She watched the way his shirt stretched across those shoulders, and the way that tight pull of fabric defined the strength in his back. There was no denying that, however apathetic he could be, Neil was fucking strong. He might not use the strength, and Sam couldn't imagine a situation in which he could be pissed enough to even throw a fucking punch, but he definitely would be able to put weight behind it if he did decide to go after anyone. Before Goblin, that shit was just a turn on. Now, she wasn't fucking sure. But, yeah, no, she still couldn't look away. It wasn't that she wasn't into it, into him. But it was just looking at him in a new light. She could imagine him strangling her now, could imagine that horrible fucking look in his eyes. Yeah, no. She shook her head. No, she wasn't going there. He had it under control over here, and he would tell her if he didn't. She blinked away the thought as he straightened.

She waited while he walked back to her, and she wasn't as careful when she took the key. She didn't put any effort into making sure their fingers didn't touch, and she didn't yank her hand back when they did touch. She just shoved the key in the front pocket of her jeans, and she glanced over at the cab. "Did you do the cab so I wouldn't fucking freak out in the car?" she asked, because what the fuck was the point in not talking about it? It wouldn't help anything to pretend, and she knew this was her damage; not his. Maybe she should have taken one of the pills her new, low-rent shrink insisted on prescribing her. But, fuck that. She reached out a hand, calloused fingers brushing just against his elbow, and then she turned and started walking toward the cab. "Where are you taking me, baby?" she called over her shoulder.

With his back turned, Neil had no idea what she was thinking, and really, he didn’t want to let his mind wander to the places it would if he didn’t reign it in. Maybe on a purely physical level, he was capable of the kind of damage Goblin had inflicted. But realistically, that just wasn’t in him; he might snarl over the journals sometimes, mainly at Daniel, but he’d never been in an actual physical fight, not since his teenage years. As for Norman, he’d been behaving ever since they’d switched places-- actually, no, that wasn’t quite right. Norman was behaving in the sense that he and his crazy were keeping the hell out of his life, but as for what went on through the door, most of that was just black and blank now. He didn’t know what he did in Marvel land, but as long as he didn’t exert his influence where it didn’t belong, Neil wasn’t about to push and piss him off. No, he was barely keeping his life together on this side; he couldn’t play hero and keep Norman in line on the other side too.

He was surprised when their fingers touched, fully expecting her to pull back or flinch when they did; he was even more surprised when she did neither. “No,” he said of the cab, and it was honest. "I just thought-- I don’t know. Everyone takes cabs. Thought it’d be more normal or something.” He shrugged, watching her reach out and brush against his elbow before turning and walking to the cab like nothing had happened. It took a few seconds, but he followed, almost falling into step beside her. “The Grill,” he said. “It’s at the Venetian. Somewhere between fancy and roadside diner, I think,” he added with a grin.

She wasn't sure whether or not he was being honest about the cab, but it was such a fucking inoffensive answer that she couldn't even try to pick it apart. He had enough cars not to need a cab, and he had enough drivers not to need a cab drive. But a cab was fucking normal, and she could use a little fucking normal these days. The garage, while safe, was still below normal somewhere; most people didn't sleep where they worked. So, yeah, she left it alone, not noticing that it had taken a few seconds for him to follow her. She stopped at the door to the cab, after yanking it open after two tries, and she considered his dinner choice. "Yeah? Do I give you credit for picking a joint in the place where we met? Or is that just a lucky fucking coincidence?" Her gap-toothed smile said she was pretty fucking sure it was the latter. She didn't expect Neil to be one of those romantic fuckers that actually remembered shit like that. She didn't expect any guys to be that, actually.

She climbed into the cab a second later, and she instinctively slid all the way across the fucking seat, close enough to the door that she was actually crowding the fucking thing. She glanced at the driver through the rearview, trying to determine if she could handle being in the space with the guy; she decided he was harmless within seconds. Her full attention turned to Neil, then, and to the door closing on the other side of the cab. She waited for Neil to tell the driver where to go, and then she exhaled a long fucking breath. She glanced over, then, inky blue eyes completely sober and straight and impossibly blue. She tugged the hems of her sleeves down, the gesture entirely protective, and then she scooted slightly closer a second later. "Want to tell me how bad Lin busted you up?" she asked, settling into the safe subject a second later. "I don't know who's going to crush who in his fucking relationship with Daniel," she admitted, and fuck if she wasn't worried about both of them now. "I think I'm going to send him on a playdate with Lou." That statement came with a dimpled grin and, yeah, so maybe she was avoiding anything real, just then, but she had to fucking work up to that first. "Hey," she added, making it sound like an afterthought, "can you take Ash to dinner so I can bum your kitchen?"

Her question caught him completely off guard, because yeah, no, Neil hadn’t chosen the restaurant for sentimental reasons or with any recollection of the significance the Venetian had. It probably would’ve sounded a lot better if he had, but he didn’t want to lie, so he just shook his head with a sheepish half-smile. “No,” he admitted. “Lucky fucking coincidence.” Some women might have minded, but he didn’t think Sam would. Not really.

It was impossible to not notice the way she slid clear across the backseat to the other side, and he tried really, really hard not to let it get under his skin. No expectations, he reminded himself. He had to be patient. So he slid inside the cab a moment later, pretending he was oblivious to the amount of space between them, and frankly he was just relieved she didn’t bail right then and there. He told the driver where to go, and he stayed on his side, not making any attempt to close the distance between them. No, she was going to be the one to take initiative here; she had to decide what she was comfortable with and what she wasn’t. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, of Lin busting him up, turning his head to look at her. “He’s not like Louis. Lin’s just... bluntly honest.” His expression soured when she mentioned Daniel, and he just shrugged. Better if he kept his mouth shut about him. “Lin and Louis?” He mulled the prospect over for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “I’d like to see that.” As for burning his kitchen, that got her a quizzical look coupled with a raise of his eyebrows. “Why do you want to burn my kitchen?”

He was right; Sam didn't mind. The fact that he didn't remember actually gave her some firm footing, something to joke about, and she gave him a little half-grin, all gapped teeth in the dark backseat. "Yeah, you fucking fail at romance, baby," she said playfully. Neil had never been that kind of suave fucker. He'd never been any good at declarations either. It was just who he was, and she wouldn't have known what to do if he just started being all the things she'd gotten used to him not being in the past year and a half. Yeah, sure, maybe she wanted romance, but that desire was buried so fucking deep that it wouldn't see the light of day easily. Christine had done a pretty good job of dredging it up with dresses and arias and singing lessons, but Gwen was even more of a relationship failure than Sam. So, yeah, it was all good.

She scooted just a little closer, still nowhere near touching any part of him - but closer. "Yeah, he's blunt," she said of Lin. He was more than that, the annoying hipster kid, but she wasn't even sure if there was a way to describe Lin. But she liked him, and she liked that he'd somehow managed to have a conversation with Neil that hadn't ended with Neil feeling like shit. Lou was great at being judgemental, and that didn't help anyone. She grinned. "I'm hoping Lin will help him take the fucking stick out of his ass. If that fails, then maybe he'll cover him with glitter or some shit." She grinned wider when Neil laughed; she hadn't realized how fucking long it had been since she'd heard the sound, and she wasn't sure she'd ever heard it completely sober. She bumped her shoulder against his, lulled by his smile. And she wasn't surprised when he asked about the kitchen. She'd been hoping he would just go with it, but no such fucking luck. "My brother just showed up. He hasn't had a home cooked meal in fifteen years, and he asked me for one. Don't you dare give me shit about the fact that I know how to cook," she added immediately, waggling a finger in his face. "I was going to use Iris' kitchen, or Lou's, but I want to introduce them to him after I've seen him, so I can tell him about them. So, yeah. I'll leave leftovers in the fridge, if you give me a couple of hours?"

Her grin was encouraging, and he was willing to take little things like that for as long as they lasted. “Hey, I don’t fail,” he protested. “I’m just a little rough around the edges when it comes to romance, that’s all.” That kind of thing wasn’t his style anyway, Neil knew that, and if he had chosen it for its significance, she probably would’ve thought he’d hit his head or something. While his conversation with Lin had been enlightening, he wasn’t out to change who he was entirely.

Not glancing down when she scooted closer took deliberate effort, but he managed. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her, as stupid as that sounded. “If anyone can help Louis loosen up, it’s Lin,” he agreed. “Glitter’s not a bad alternative. I’ll need pictures if that happens. Lots of them.” As judgmental as his brother could be (he still hadn’t forgotten that, apparently, he didn’t know what to make of him) Neil still wanted the best for him, and he thought he could use a good time after how shitty things had been lately. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Louis really smile. The bump to his shoulder came as a surprise, and there was a flicker of that in his gaze before he wiped it clean and, very carefully, nudged her back. His smile faded, however, when she said her brother showed up. He knew Sam had a lot of siblings, but aside from Louis, whom he also considered family, there’d been no brothers; somehow he doubted any of them would be overly fond towards him. “I-- your brother?” Oh, so casual. “Yeah, sure, you can use my kitchen. I’ll take Ash out.” He didn’t even think to make some sort of quip about her cooking skills. “So, this brother of yours... what’s his story?”

"You would totally bore the shit out of me if you recited poetry and read romance novels, baby," she said honestly. She wanted emotion from him, yeah, but she was a show and not a tell kind of bitch. Maybe it didn't come across that way immediately, and maybe she came across as being a lot fucking harder than she actually was. But she didn't need flowers and declarations, however much Lin might want her to become that chick. She knew she and Neil were shit at communicating, but that was who they were. And, hey, it had never been a fucking problem until recently, had it? It made her think of Lin's comment about monogamy, and she gave him a look, a curious one. "So, you're not really into the fucking other people thing?" she asked. Sure, they'd touched on it once, somewhere around Valentine's Day, but then Chloe had happened, and Sam sort of thought that whole thing was canceled. But she was curious. "Not us, just in general or whatever." Because saving face was still important, even if she'd already made a complete fucking idiot of herself over this guy.

She smiled at the visual image of Lou covered in glitter, and the smile only warbled slightly when he shot her that surprised look before nudging her back. She had no fucking clue what was going on in his mind; she was pretty sure this wasn't how guys acted when they were into chicks, but she was trying to just be cool and calm. The question about Joey distracted her enough to make her sink back against the cab's seat. "His name's Joey. He went inside when I was seven. He just got out," she said, getting over the hard stuff early. And, hey, Neil deserved to know what the fuck kind of baggage she came with, yeah? "I had to fill out a W-2 to get the job at the garage, and my fucking parents and husband have been calling non-stop. The 'rents told Joey where I was." She looked over at him, hunting for judgement on his features. "When I was a kid, Joey made sure I had enough to eat, and he took care of me. I thought he was the best thing in the fucking world." She shrugged; it was simple as that. Sam had no fucking problem loving family like there weren't any boundaries; it was just who she was.

“I would bore myself if I recited poetry and read romance novels,” Neil said, pulling a face. He could try, and he could fake it, but the truth was that would never, ever be him, plain and simple. He’d known women who wanted that sort of thing, and they were always disappointed when he couldn’t give it. That was when he’d learned to be more up front about what he could offer, though then his issue had been apathy, rather than how much of a romantic he was or wasn’t. Her question about fucking other people completely came out of left field, and he wondered if Lin had mentioned something; damn, he’d said something about that, hadn’t he? Goddammit. “What do you mean, fucking other people? Like, in general, or when I’m with someone else?” Might as well be straight about it.

Considering the fact that she’d begun the cab ride crowded up against the far door, he thought he was doing what she wanted; keeping his distance, and letting her decide what she was ready for and when. After all, what was he supposed to do? Fortunately, he didn’t notice enough to question whether or not he should have been holding back in the first place. He cocked his head to the side when she said that Joey had ‘gone inside’, not comprehending, but when she said he’d just gotten out, well, that clicked. “He was in jail?” It slipped out before he could stop himself, but he did manage to refrain from asking what he’d been arrested for in the first place. Personally, he didn’t know anyone who’d been in prison, but who was he to judge? Unless it was murder or something, he wasn’t going to start getting preachy on her... well, if he’d been in for something drug-related, that might pose a problem too. “Your parents and husband have been calling? What, they want you to come back or something?” He listened to her describe Joey, and maybe he was an ex-con, but she sounded like she really cared about him, and if he cared about her too, then wasn’t that what mattered? “So it’s a good thing he’s here,” he ventured, as the cab slowed to a stop and pulled up alongside the sidewalk.

Yeah, Sam couldn't imagine life with someone sappy. Liam drove her insane with his need for soft words and shit. And it wasn't that she didn't want some kind of happily ever after of her own, because she did, but she didn't think that came with declarations and bullshit promises. She'd grown up in a hard world, and she knew that actions were everything, and words were just words. She knew, too, that Neil was the most apathetic motherfucker she had never met. She knew that, and it drove her nuts sometimes, but she wouldn't actually change him. If she changed him, then he wouldn't be who she'd fallen for in the first place. His question, the one about her clarifying what she meant about fucking other people, that made her blue eyes go thoughtful. Yeah, so what did that even mean? She didn't want him to think she was painting him into a corner where they were a thing, which was where her mind went. When I'm with someone else, that sure didn't make it sound like he thought they were together. Ok, yeah, no more listening to fucking Lin. "In general," she finally said, taking the safe route.

Her shoulders went a little straighter when he blurted out that he was in jail?. It was a protective gesture, immediate. "I've been in jail," she reminded him. Before she met him, sure, but she'd been in jail. Not having a record was the weird thing in her world. And it was a good thing he didn't ask what Joey had done, because witness tampering wasn't really clear, and she had no fucking idea what he'd done to the witnesses. Whatever it was, it had earned him fifteen years, so she was pretty sure Joey hadn't just talked at the people. The topic of her folks and old man, that was easier. "Yeah. No rent discount since I've been gone or whatever. Joey says he'll take care of it, if it becomes a problem." Simple and unthinking. She smiled when he asked if it was a good thing that Joey was around. "Yeah." She climbed out of the cab, and she walked around the back and waited for him on the sidewalk. "You know, Lou and Iris, I love the fuck out of them. But they don't know what it was like when I was small. They weren't there, you know?" she asked. "Shit, you have a better idea what that was like, thanks to Christmas."

Well, that didn’t clear anything up. Neil tried to pretend like he was just mulling over the question, when in reality he was trying to figure out what, exactly, she was asking him. “I’m not not into... I mean, if you’re asking--” He sighed, and gave up the pretense entirely. “I’m not into fucking other people when I’m in a relationship, or with someone. So no. Not sure what you mean by in general, or what I meant for that matter, because frankly when you’re unattached you can do whatever the hell you want. But...” He shrugged. “I don’t know. If you’re with someone, I mean, actually with them, and you care, why would you want to fuck someone else?” And oh, awesome, now he was rambling. He was definitely going to be asking Lin about this later.

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything about her brother being in jail as soon as her shoulders straightened, recognizing the protectiveness in her gesture. Yeah, berating this guy for his bad choices wasn’t going to go very well, and he’d already made enough of a mess of things. “You have?” That was probably something he should’ve remembered, but it was different with her. Which, yeah, made him biased, but he didn’t know Joey. He knew her. “Look, I’m not-- so he’s been in jail. Shit happens sometimes.” He’d grown up rich, after all, without any problems that would ever drive him to break the law. Maybe it was best to back off for right now; family was a touchy subject, he knew that. “Oh, well, good. If it’ll be taken care of,” he said, vaguely uncertain. But that smile, when he asked if it was good that Joey was around, said all he really needed to know. He slid out of his side of the cab and followed her around, onto the sidewalk, and after a moment’s thought brushed his hand against hers. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “They both grew up like me. With money, I mean. It’s not the same.” Oh, he remembered Christmas very, very well; he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it. Inside the restaurant, he gave his last name, which was all it took for them to be led to their table.

He wasn't not into what? Not into monogamy? Ok, she was pretty sure they'd already established that, and that Lin was just wrong about everything, yeah? She'd just finished with that thought, and he was sighing and saying something completely fucking different. She listened, and maybe she was a little fucking wide-eyed with surprise. First off, she didn't think he actually did relationships. She wasn't going to actually say that, but it sort of came out anyway. "Wait. You don't do relationships and labels and shit. You don't care about that stuff," she said, and it wasn't even accusatory; it was confused. She could have shut up right there and then; she considered it. Yeah, but considering didn't make it happen. "I was a virgin when I married Al. I was sixteen, and I didn't know shit about anything. My brothers made sure no one in Elizabeth came near me," she said easily, because that had just been her experience. Protective brothers that threatened bitches with knives and fists, those were normal things. "Al didn't let me fucking breathe." Cheating? Yeah, so not happening. "Seriously, I couldn't leave the house if he wasn't with me. So, yeah, last year I came here and-" She shrugged. "I don't have a lot of fucking experience in what people do in relationships."

"Nothing serious. Petty theft and possession of some pot," she said of her two arrests when she first came to Vegas. She'd ripped Russ off shortly after, and that money had carried her through until she met Neil. "You could have had me arrested like a dozen times, baby," she told him honestly. "He was a kid when he got arrested. Eighteen and with nowhere to go, just like everyone else in my family," she said in Joey's defense. "Fifteen years is a long fucking time away from the world," she added, sounding worried; she was worried. She had no idea how the fuck Joey was even going to live, unless he was getting money to drag her home, which she knew he wouldn't do.

That brush of his hand against hers made her go quiet, but she didn't jerk back. She didn't stop him from moving again, and she followed when he went into the restaurant and gave his name, unsurprised when the hostess became more respectful, and unsurprised when she led them toward the tables with the best view in the place. She waited until the woman was gone, and she slid into her chair. She didn't pick up her menu right away. Instead, she tapped the inside of his leg with her foot, and then she did it again, giving him a gap-toothed smile that almost bordered on shy.