WHO: Brooke and Damon WHEN: Backdated to Sunday night WHERE: Starting at the Ice Room WHAT: Brooke and Damon round off their date night RATING: High STATUS: Incomplete
Brooke laughed as she stumbled out of the Ice Room. Damon really was good to his word. The wine and dinner at Buono Gusto had been delicious, and he had, of course, been a gentleman and paid. Not that she'd really offered. If he wasn't prepared to make an effort, there wasn't much point. But he had, and then he'd bought her to the Ice Room for the promised dancing. For a while she'd been sure the guy on the door wasn't going to let her in, but Damon had talked to him, and he let them both walk in untroubled. Damon was a good dancer. Brooke was impressed. He had stayed close to her all night, and he had acted suitably impressed at her moves. He had, in short, been perfect all night. She didn't know what she'd been expecting from a dead guy, but not anything this normal; this wonderful. He's payed for everything she could possibly have wanted.
Sighing, feeling blissfully happy for the first time since arriving here, Brooke turned to face Damon, her red bag clutched to her chest. She was wearing a red satin dress, which was classy but still showed her curves. Her shoes were white and black dog toothed print, and she had a white shrug around her shoulders. She felt sexy. Her feet were hurting, and she was hot from dancing for hours, but she felt great.
Grinning, she crossed back to Damon, slipping one hand into his, pulling him away from the Ice Room. "You, boy, need to escort me back home," she said, her voice a happy purr. "Every gentleman escorts his lady back home."