Who: Sam and Dante What: Operation Get Back Freddie Part Two Where: Verisimilitude When: Day after this, past sunset. Warnings: Not unless you'd like to be warned for references to dream snogging and stalking.
It was only after Dante had delivered his parting words to Sam that he realized he’d not clarified a place within Verisimilitude, nor an exact time for their meeting. Waiting by the front door right at sunset might have appeared overly eager, but it was the only way that Dante could think of to make sure that he didn’t miss her, and that he was prepared when she arrived.
He’d brought flowers again, of course. This time, they were a soft peach color, delicate and lovely, and the half dozen were tied into a bundle with a white ribbon. It took concentration not to grip them too tightly with the stirrings of what might have been nerves in a lesser man. Not Dante, though. Dante wasn’t the type who got nervous, not over something silly like seeing a girl he’d only kissed in a dream. It was just that Sam was different, he told himself. Sam was unpredictable. Sam was interesting in a way that so few girls were.
Most of all, Sam was a challenge worthy of making sure that his white dress shirt was unwrinkled, that his jeans weren’t frayed, and that his shoes were clean. Of course, he couldn’t make the fact that he’d gone to that much trouble over it obvious, either. It was a careful balance, being attentive without being, frankly, pathetic. Not that Dante was pathetic, he assured himself. Not pathetic at all. And he would keep repeating that until the fact that he’d spent two hours finding roses that were uniform in color didn’t seem so bad. There was nothing wrong with attention to detail. After checking in with Rory one more time (no, he wasn’t a serial killer, he was just some guy who had a connection to her kidnapped baby brother), Sam had set out for Verisimilitude. She had no idea where she’d be in thirteen hours nor if getting snapped back home then would be a good idea. Unfortunately this meant walking with a jumble full of thoughts, ranging from why she’d dream of Dante - dancing with him, kissing him, throwing chairs at him - to the movie she’d see with Jess tomorrow. Thoughts very rarely went to Freddie, until she realized she was being an ass.
Then her cheeks flushed as she began to run, just as a drizzle began to fall She tugged her coat more tightly about herself, ducking her head downwards. This time, she wasn’t going to let any foolishness stop her from getting and finding Freddie. Hell no. She’d look Dante right in the eye, without feeling like she should punch him again or her stomach doing flip flops. No. Of course not.
She still had this in mind as she got to Verisimilitude, hair wet and rising up from what was tucked into her ponytail, shivering slightly from the cold. She’d expected (despite not mentioning it before) to see Dante somewhere inside, after she got a chance to recover. Not right there as she burst in. She grimaced despite herself, not noticing how he was dressed - only the flowers again.
What was with him? Really.
Sam blinked at him, before managing a faint, “Hi.” She wondered for a moment what would happen if she had stumbled into him and if he’d take advantage of that. Her insides crawled and she winced right there - forcefully to fight any images mirroring a dream from a few nights ago. This wasn’t more appealing in reality. At all. “Wanna find the library?” Dante held the flowers out in front of him, waiting for her to take them. “Hello, Sam, it’s nice to see you, as well. I’m doing fine, and you?” He smiled, hopefully in a winning way. Surely politeness, if nothing else, would convince her to take the flowers and return the greeting. Otherwise, their meeting would be pure business, and he certainly didn’t want that.
Still, he wouldn’t push it too hard. “The library sounds like a good place. Hopefully there won’t be many people there, tonight.” That would lend it enough importance that she would be convinced it was worth staying for, he hoped. Even if she got her back up about something, as she always seemed to.
And then, because she looked cold and it was the gentlemanly thing to do, he shrugged off his coat. “Here, take this.” Sam really didn’t need to be scolded about manners by Dante. Last thing she needed aside from another trip down slightly-blurry-minded-and-snogging-him-lane. Sam grimaced, didn’t answer, just taking the flowers as she couldn’t get out of it. “No dreams?” she asked, a tad bitter.
She liked the library, though every time she was there pulled her back to her first party at Verisimilitude. “Probably not. It’s empty around this time - they like the bar, you know?” She glanced at him then, looking up from her dinghy sneakers. Sam realized she didn’t know how old Dante was, but the general guess was that he was older. A bit. Possibly drinking age.
At the offer of his coat, Sam paused one foot hovering in front of the other in mid air. On one hand, it would be really rude if she didn’t take it. On the other hand it was his. On the other hand (when did she get three hands?) he looked better without his jacket on.
Damn it, she was spending too much time with Ally and Bunny.
She took the coat gingerly, as if they were in kindergarten and had cooties, shrugging it on around the flowers still in her hand. Once again her hand got scraped by the thorns - but this time, unlike her dream, Sam wasn’t going to show that. She kept her hand tight about the flowers, intending to drop them at the first opportunity. No matter how begrudgingly she took it, Dante thought that she looked very good wearing his coat. Since offering his arm probably wouldn’t be received well, he stepped back and waited for her to go first.
“No dreams. I slept very soundly.” He was sure that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the truth. “And how have you been sleeping?” It was tempting to reach out and touch her cheek, but he restrained himself. Perhaps later, when she was more relaxed... well. Maybe not. “That’s good,” she said, not really meaning it. Was it better that her subconscious was coming up with such plots or that she hadn’t actually done anything with a real him? She adjusted his coat, heading down the hall and up the stairs - looking back occasionally to make sure he was following. “Fine. No more nightmares or anything-” She bit her lip the moment she said it. Right, he didn’t know crap. She looked ahead, climbing faster.
“I mean, or at all. People who have them are unlucky, seriously.” How lame could she get? And why did she care if she sounded lame? The retraction was more than a bit suspicious, but she was already running like a frightened little rabbit, so he kept his expression as neutral as possible. “Everyone has nightmares, sometimes, especially when they’re under a lot of stress.” It seemed like it should be true, though Dante didn’t claim to be an expert on dreams. “These are stressful times. I imagine there are a lot of people having nightmares, recently.” Not him, of course. He wouldn’t brag, though, not about that... especially not when having them might make her want to open up to him more.
He let her pull a little ahead on the stairs, but caught up when they were off of them. Still, he was careful not to get too close; he knew it had just been a dream, but the memory of that punch she’d thrown was potent. Waiting until she warmed up a bit more, until she was responding more favorably to him, would be his best bet for not finding out if the real thing could hit as hard. She didn’t get the door for him into the library, only weaving her way in further. A pair of cozy armchairs in a corner were sought out. Before she could think of how it looked, Sam was curled up with her feet underneath her, his coat wrapped around her comfortingly. She waited till he got in the opposite seat before starting.
“So, what’d you find out about Freddie?” Ah, and it was time to begin with the part of his tale Dante truly had to be careful with. Lies involving another person’s cooperation were always the hardest, and even though he’d managed to convince his former partner in crime to go along with the scheme (there had possibly been a few false promised made, but all was fair when it came to love), there was no telling if the man would change his mind when faced with the actuality of meeting Samantha. The sudden tenseness in Dante’s shoulders and the worried expression on his face weren’t even an act.
He took a deep breath, then told her very hesitantly. “I... told you that I had to make a few deals to get help getting through the portal. Those deals weren’t with some bad people. I’m not proud of it, and I wanted to leave that behind. But, Sam, I heard some people whisper things about kids, and I ignored it then because...” It was a mixture of the lies he’d already told her, the sob story he’d constructed for her benefit, and a few carefully placed new elaborations on the story, so far. “Because I didn’t want to know, I guess.”
He glanced at her, trying to gauge her reaction before he gave her that one tiny bit of hope. “But I tracked someone down, someone I knew from that.” He would have her, he thought. That would be enough to keep her hooked, and keep her coming back. For as much as Dante had been a dick in the past, infuriated her, and been confusing, Sam didn’t have a reason to think he was a liar. He hadn’t in the past - as far as she knew - and while she didn’t quite get his motives, she didn’t see a reason for him to lie. Not with the sob story he’d shared before. It did the trick, just like their ‘date’ weeks ago. Sam fell for it, torn between feeling like she should pity him (as it was pity, not sympathy unfortunately) and whether she should get up from her chair and sock him in the nose. She chose to go with the former, chewing on her lip until he went on.
That news sparked a different reaction, immediately. “You did?” It was a horrible thing, girlish and almost a squeal. She barely winced, nearly bouncing in her chair. “Who is he? How do we get the info - is this any time soon?” Please, please yes. She needed Freddie back. Really. Dante ducked his head to hide the small flash of a smirk. “He didn’t say anything about Freddie, specifically. I couldn’t ask, specifically. He’s not a bad... well. He’s not the worst of them. I’m not even sure if he has anything to do with Freddie, but it just seems like too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it?”
Of course, the other man knew exactly what to say about the child to keep Sam interested, but to not give them all away. He didn’t quite understand why Dante was doing what he was doing, but he was willing to play along for the offer of Dante’s assistance on a small job he had in mind. Dante shrugged, lowered his voice a little more. “I don’t know when we can meet with him and ask. I’m still just building up his trust, but I wanted to let you know as soon as I got any news. I know how worried you are.” Just enough sucking up, and Dante would take pity for the moment as long as it kept her from running away. It wasn’t as though he was as pitiful as he pretended to be, after all. Her face fell immediately when he said nothing was confirmed - the duck of his head, embarrassment over it. Guilt tugged at her and she wrapped her arms below her chest, scowling slightly. “Is there anything I can do to help? What do these kind of guys want anyway?” She had a few guesses and ideas, but unless it was something that wasn’t along those lines, she could possibly come up with a small miracle.
Or if nothing else, there could be Rory - if he ever stopped worrying about that masked vigilante who’d beaten him. Sam debated for a long moment, staring down at picked nails before looking up.
“I’ve got friends. You know. In high places.” Her head jerked towards the window, where a hint of roofline from the lower floor could be seen. She didn’t know how much Dante read the forums, but she’d given away she was friends with Rorschach to the public before. Plus, there was Corbinian - Jack - kinda. “They could help, if they were the type. They’re the ones who come down on criminals.” Oh, shit, anything but that. Dante shook his head quickly. “Not with them. If you try to intimidate them, you’ll never get anything. They don’t know much, there’s...” A detail he hadn’t meant to give away, but he hadn’t expected Sam to bring up her masked friends. “There’s someone higher up. I never met him.” A huge lie, but she never had to know. Besides, the boss still hadn’t shown up to possibly tell her otherwise.
And in the end, it worked to his advantage. He lifted his chin again. “I’m still working on it, but I know that if you ever want to find Freddie, we’re going to have to play it safe and work our way up to him. He’s the one who will know.” Sam had a good enough guess on Rory’s strategies and sighed. “Alright. But if they could do anything, I could ask. I know someone who probably would do something, if I filled him in...” The rest of the way. He knew pretty much everything but the Dante part at this point.
With a tight expression, she nodded. “Okay. Fine.” She looked about the room, absently. That was it then. Another sigh and she got up, meeting his eyes. Fighting the urge to shake him right then and there for not having more information, she said, “Thanks, Dante.” Dante rose with her, and reached out to grasp her arm gently. “Sam... I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you’d want to wait until I knew more. I thought you’d want to know as soon as I had anything.” And the more he dragged it out, the more excuses he had to see her before he had to actually show her something substantial. Dante was a man with priorities.
He knew he’d have to give her something more soon. He’d go through what he’d coached his former partner on a few more times, just to make sure that their stories were straight, before he risked introducing Sam, but he knew he couldn’t delay even that much longer. Crap. Apparently they’d forgotten the personal space bubble rule again. Sam halted, heels dug into the ground as she looked to him with...even more personal space issues. Sam opened her mouth to reassure that it really wasn’t the problem now - the discussion was done, really - but the space issue stopped her.
Space was good. Really.
Gently, her hands went up - giving her time to remember, oh hell she was still wearing his coat - and rested on shoulders. She forced herself to give a light push, hoping he’d release her arm. “It’s um, fine-” He had nice shoulders. Crap. Dante only kept his hold for a moment longer, a slow count to five before he let go. “I promise, I’m doing my best.” Well, he was doing his best to make things go his own way. In the end, that would work out to Sam’s benefit, too. She just didn’t know that yet. She took a slightly too hasty step back, offering a sheepish - no, not sheepish, totally cool and confident - smile. She shrugged off his coat, passing it back. “I believe you-” For some strange reason. Shoving the coat at him she moved to take off, trying to fight the weird feeling in her stomach...
Before she remembered one last thing.
At the door way she paused, leaning around it to peer at him. “Hey Dante? You sure you haven’t dreamed of anything strange lately?” Because she couldn’t make a bigger fool of herself then she’d already had. Bad shoulders. Though Dante wasn’t sure why she was so insistent on it, he decided that actually giving it some thought and a proper response couldn’t hurt. “There might have been something about a dance. I believe you were there.” Oh, he knew she was there, and he remembered every detail. He hoped that just that little bit, however, would be flattering. “It didn’t seem so strange.”
Would saying that he dreamed of her often be nice, or creepy? It was a hard line to toe, and in the end he decided not to risk it. “That’s all, though. No nightmares, nothing stranger than any other dream.” She’d really been hoping for a negative - just to reassure herself. Her stomach plummeted at a dance - her being there - and then her face screwed up in a very awkward expression as he said it didn’t seem strange.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Just uh, wondering-” Sam was terrible at lying. She wanted to run for it - this was worse then dreaming with Corbinian for some reason. How her pride and attraction weighed more than hers and Rory’s life was a weird thing, but she couldn’t overthink it. She was in panic attack overload. “I mean - if you got uh-” She facepalmed. “You deserved to get punched and don’t do that in reality ever again, even if that wasn’t exactly terrible-”
She wasn’t finishing that sentence. Sam ran for it, down the hall and stairs without looking back. She was never, ever going to be able to face him again. Crap. Freddie might end up delayed yet again. Eyes widening, Dante stared after her. She’d... that had been... oh, shit. He’d heard about the shared dreams, why hadn’t he even considered..?
For a moment, he despaired that it would be the end of his chances, Freddie or no, but then the rest of her words registered. Not exactly terrible?
A slow, satisfied grin stretched across his face. Not terrible was a great start.