WHO: Violet Lyon and Murdock Jones WHAT: A turning point in their relationship. WHEN: Backdated to February 24, 2029. WHERE: Violet's apartment in Gravesend, District 4. RATING: PG!
MURDOCK: "Alright, in my defense?" Murdock exhaled breathlessly as he pushed open the door to Violet's apartment, "I had no idea that there were going to be security guards. I mean, why would that be necessary? Who would break into a library?" With the door open he assumed the ramrod posture of a footman and bowed her inside with a sweeping gesture, chivalrously inviting in to her own apartment.
He followed her inside, happily oblivious to the irony of his own question and seemingly not the least dismayed that his birthday 'surprises' had met with a varying degree of success throughout the evening. He swiveled on his heels to face her, walking backwards into the kitchen with his brows raised expectantly. "Bubbly? Bubbly. Your birthday demands bubbly. It's French, and ergo, fully appropriate."
VIOLET: Her companion may have been happy to stay oblivious, but Violet would be remiss if she didn't at least raise her eyebrows at his unintentional irony. She hardly got a chance to relax her skeptical expression once inside her apartment, for Murdock had already leaped from one absurdity to another. "Bubbly?" she echoed, kicking off her heels into a corner before she followed him the few short steps into the kitchen. "Unless you've been ingeniously hiding something from me all night, I'm afraid you'll be terribly disappointed. Why would I have champagne?"
She was already laughing, ready for either a sheepish excuse or some ridiculous substitute - powdered champagne, or spiked ginger ale. The night had already been full of surprises, and though she normally would not count running away from library security in heels and little black dress 'fun', somehow Murdock managed to cast it all in a humorous light. He always did, and she expected no less now as they stood in the tiny kitchen.
MURDOCK: Violet barely managed to get through her objection before the telltale POP of a cork sounded from within the small apartment kitchenette, as well as the slosh of foaming champagne. But a moment later Murdock appeared in the entranceway with bottle in hand and a mischievous smile touching his lips, promising not to divulge exactly how long ago he'd hid the bottle in her apartment for just such a dramatic unveil.
"Ingenious?" He repeated indulgently as he scooped up two wine glasses, in the absence of flutes. "I like that, ingenious. You always do understand me best, don't you? We just have that sort of rapport." He went on like a melodramatic freight train as he poured the two glasses, handing one to his date and scooping up the second. "Also, that dress. Have I mentioned how fantastic you look in that dress? Because I couldn't live with myself if such beauty went unrecognized."
VIOLET: Whatever she was expecting, an actual bottle of champagne was definitely not on the list. "Murdock!" her hands flew up to her mouth as she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock and delight. "How did you get this?!" she laughed, more out of utter bewilderment than any sort of amusement, though he gave her no lack of quips to smirk at.
Taking her glass, Violet seemed to think better of her question. "No, don't answer, it'll spoil it somehow," she amended, holding her glass just beneath her lips, enjoying the tickle of fizz. Such was her marvel at his feat, that it took her several moments before she remembered to roll her eyes at Murdock's umpteenth compliment of the evening. "I think you can live with yourself several times over, don't worry."
MURDOCK: A mirthful grin flashed before Murdock forced his expression into one of solemnity, holding his glass of champagne formally in the air. "To Violet Sophia Lyon," he intoned gravely, his voice raised as if to project to guests in every inch of the small apartment. "A woman of unparalleled beauty, compassion, creativity, and - thank God - patience. May the coming year be filled with her happiness and joy, and may all of her dreams come true." His formal facade broke as he added in a coy aside, "Especially the one where we're on a boat and I'm in that sailor's uniform..."
Fully expecting a reprimand, he quickly dipped his glass forward to curtail it by ending the cheers with the telltale clink of glass on glass.
VIOLET: Though it'd been a year full of overwrought, flowery compliments, Violet still had it in her to blush. Perhaps it was the seeming sincerity, or the happy anticipation of champagne. Whatever the case, the rosy flush on her cheeks only deepened when Murdock slipped in his suggestive aside, but before she could protest, she was forced to accept the toast.
After taking a first sip - then another, savoring the luxury of the bubbly drink - she smiled broadly. "Thank you, Murdock," she said softly, brushing loose hair from her face. "It's been a wonderful birthday. Really." That was the truth, too - for all the mishaps, balancing out the pleasant surprises. Much better, she thought, than the year previous, though given present company, she couldn't entirely discount that one, either.
MURDOCK: Murdock tipped his own glass back enthusiastically, downing his champagne as though it were a shot. He exhaled sharply as the empty glass came down, though upon realizing that Violet had only sipped, he experienced a brief moment of embarrassment at the prospect of having potentially mis-observed some sort of custom. Not that he was one to get mired in embarrassment for too long, instead casting her a chastising look for her still-full glass while refilling his own.
"Yeah?" He repeated, again with an uncharacteristic hint of relief; he seemed earnestly pleased with this reaction. "I mean, yeah, of course. You think I'd show you a mediocre time on your birthday? Not particularly my style. You deserve only the best and I deliver only the best, which, I might add, is yet another of umpteen-thousand reasons why we're clearly soulmates." He flashed a grin to go with his usual hyperbole, his glass lifting to his lips for a more modest sip this time round.
VIOLET: "Really," Violet repeated, though this time her tone was considerably more sardonic. She leveled a Look at Murdock over the top of her wine glass, sipping again before she continued. "Soulmates? By what reasoning?" Stern though her words were, she couldn't keep the smile out of her voice as she teased.
"It seems to me," she said airily, champagne swirling about her glass as she stepped around her admirer, turning circles of mock-judgment, "That one soulmate would take great pains to make sure the other didn't get arrested - say, by library security, or NYPD patrolling abandoned apartments in District 0. And they would not leave the other with the bill quite so often. Nor," she continued archly, raising a finger and tapping it accusingly against his chest, "would they spend quite so much time pursuing other women!" Here she stopped, leaning back against the countertop as she drank deeply from her glass. Though there was still a sip or two left, she tilted it towards Murdock, eyebrows raised in expectation of both refill and rebuff. Though she'd had hardly a glass of champagne, her cheeks were flushed again - and though she didn't notice it herself, she was holding her breath in anticipation of his reply.
MURDOCK: Murdock raised his own brows in a confrontational manner in response to Violet's sardonic gaze, canting his head ever so slightly to follow her circumnavigation. He kept opening his mouth to deliver one of many readied retorts, only to curtailed by her continued diatribe... until her final note, whereupon he opened his mouth, only to find that there was no prepared response in his back pocket.
After a frozen moment he pivoted on his heels to face her, bottle tilted in one hand to pour into her glass. "Miss Lyon, you know perfectly well..." He took a small step forward, cautiously closing the small gap between them, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "That you're the only woman for me. As soon as you stop fighting reason and accept that, yours will be the only arms I happily fall into." It was taking a concerted act of will to cover any hints of anxiety that underlay this statement; though the slightest evident hint might be enough to distinguish his claim from his usual hyperbole.
VIOLET: The silence that stretched out between them was broken only by the effervescence of the champagne. Violet had no ready quip to throw back at Murdock; instead, she searched his face for that slight hint, her eyes locked on his. Finally, before he could move away or launch into another speech, or before she could change her mind, her gaze dropped to her glass. "And what if I did stop fighting 'reason'?" she asked, struggling to keep her tone light and wry. It was terribly disappointing to hear her words come out in a whisper; suddenly, the sparkling champagne looked incredibly tempting. She didn't dare to look up and completely give away her sincerity.
"What if I stopped fighting, right now?"
MURDOCK: Murdock was quite thankful her gaze had fallen to her glass, for it ensured she missed the flash of surprise that crossed his expression at her response. He'd fallen into such a safe zone of steady rebuff from Violet that this concession caught him quite emphatically off guard.
That said, he was hardly going to allow himself to be caught floundering, so he quickly smoothed his expression into a confident, intimate smile. His free hand lifted to gently touch the curve of her chin, lifting it to again connect their gazes. "I'd say that makes me the luckiest boy in New York, is what I'd say." Even he was a little surprised by how evenly - and earnestly - his words came out, but rather than dwell upon such things he instead leaned in to seal the moment with a kiss.
VIOLET: Violet hesitated for a moment, tense beneath his touch - and then relaxed, committing fully to her rhetorical question and all it carried. All the sensible, skeptical voices in her head quieted as she returned the kiss. Even the fizzing glass between their bodies quelled, all birthday ebullience overshadowed by the moment. To be sure, there had been other kisses - chaste pecks and otherwise meaningless, experimental ventures: brief interruptions in their constant game of cat and mouse, flirtation and rebuff. Now that game was over, in spite of the flutters of anxiety and the warning bells and the sensible, skeptical voices. What was the use of reading all the great novels and poetry of the world if she didn't heed their lessons on love? What good was a storyteller that never let herself open to heartbreak?
When their lips parted, Violet found herself buoyed by a giddy confidence, grinning again at Murdock. "'If', I said," she reminded, bringing the glass to her lips again for another long sip. "If!"
MURDOCK: "Oh, right." Murdock mused in a hushed tone, allowing his face to linger near hers while the interjected glass slipped between them. "If."
"I suppose that just means," he continued wistfully, passing the bottle of champagne into her free hand. "That I'm going to have to keep making my case, hmm?" And with a particularly mischievous look he slid one arm around her back and the other behind her knees, gracefully scooping her up into his arms in a fashion obviously gleaned from a steady diet of old movies. "Join me in my office and we can go over the finer points of my argument." His voice was thick with the relish of playful innuendo as he maneuvered around the coffee table on a trajectory towards Violet's bedroom.