Participants:
| Scene Title | Just About Classified |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sable takes Delilah out for dessert but, as may be expected, turns the topic towards questions, not all of them answerable. Also, cupcakes. |
| Date | July 10, 2010 |
Sweet Revenge
Wine bar and cupcake bakery.
After squeezing a week's advance out of her boss, and then promptly spending the majority of it on ridiculous new clothing and an amber necklace (so fuckin' worth it, is the official opinion), Sable's got about eighty bucks left out of the couple hundred she started with. Never being one to keep money around, she promptly decides the best way to finish off the last of it is to ask Delilah out for an evening. She can't drive, so a decent chunk of change goes towards ordering a cab for them, and it can assumed that the trip back will cost the same amount (more if the taxi driver decides to take a scenic route), so that leaves…
Oh Jesus, Sable doesn't have a head for numbers. It's enough, she hopes. After all, she's not taking Delilah out for dinner. She's taking her out for dessert.
The place is called 'Sweet Revenge', and you can tell its hip because it's a combined wine bar and cupcake bakery, and it's run by a bunch of young people. Sable doesn't bother with trying to pass herself off as older than twenty-one. If Dee isn't drinking, Sable's not going to tackle a bottle of wine all by herself. Cupcakes will do, and the variety is considerable as perusing the menu reveals. Sable plays the gentleman, opening doors, pulling out Delilah's chair, and generally being deferential. Trying to treat her right, as fits the new way. Yellow eyes peek over the log menus, up at Delilah, whose height continues to both please and somewhat daunt her.
"Gotta admit," she says, "I dunno what half these friggin' things even are. Yer a sophisticated, lady, eh? Help a girl out. What's… uh… Genache? That any good? Somethin' French, mebbe?"
Delilah has been pointing things out even before getting inside. Despite having a sweet tooth and being a skilled baker herself, she has never before been to one of these bakeries. The sheer amount of gourmet cupcakes has practically made her crank out her purse- but, as Sable is treating her to this, there must be a certain degree of restraint. The redhead, when she goes out with Sable most places, wears as flat of heels as she can; her dress tonight has a ditsy flower pattern to match the amber necklace she so proudly wears for Sable. It does not match too much, but she will try to make it work on nights like this.
Delilah chews on her lip as she looks over the list of desserts. "Oh, everything looks delicious-" She passes a glance over towards the counter and the display case. "I wonder if they'd be mad if I tried to make some of it at home…"
Sable sneaks a glance towards the kitchen door. A funky looking waitress with a fauxhawk is emerging, carrying a plethora of assorted cupcakes on a tray, bearing the payload of goodies to a bunch of what look to be NYU sorority girls, still keeping the pack together over the summer. At least they're eating, and quite a lot by the looks. Sable's gaze follows the regiment of goodies for a moment before swinging back to the kitchen door, then darting over to Delilah again. She angles the menu against her cheek conspiratorially, "I could try 'n' sneak in there, steal they're like, secret recipes 'r whatever. I'd need a distraction, though. Got any ideas?"
"What?" Delilah laughs, leaning in to whisper back. "I can't let you do that. I can just try it on my own, It's fine. You know me and experiments." With a small shake of the pamphlet in her fingers she starts looking over it again. "I quite like red velvet cake, don't remember the last time I had it. It's got nice frosting, looks like. Or maybe peanut butter. That might make me feel too full, though."
"They must have empty stomachs." Delilah notes, glancing up over Sable's shoulder to the sorority girls.
"You get whatever y' damn well please," Sable informs Delilah, with vehemence, "They even got some, like, crazy cocktails it looks like, all chocolate 'n' no booze so… y'know… help yerself," she smiles, "I love t' see a woman eat, y'know. Honest I do." She examines the menu again, brow furrowing with consternation. She sets the menu down, helpless for the moment.
"Talked t' Moth- er… Abby earlier this evenin'," Sable remarks. She's trying to sound offhanded. And she sound like it. Not offhanded. She sounds like she's trying to sound offhanded. So her attempt achieves the precisely opposite effect. Obviously somethings on her mind. "Got this assignment, like, with, like… y'know. The folks in my buildin'. Finding out what people, like, saw. The day we all…" Sable crosses her eyes, and lets her head drop, pantomiming a spontaneous passing out. Her eyes uncross and find Dee. "Told me what she saw 'n' all. Said y' were fine 'n', like, I figure I believe 'er, eh? But I was wonderin', as I hadn't asked you yet… what did you see? 'n'… were y' okay 'n' all?" Which is the heart of her concern. Dee's wellbeing.
Delilah lifts her eyebrows as Sable starts onto something new, peering over the menu with a half-knowing look in her eye. As Sable talks, she folds the paper against her chest and waits until the explanation passes. That half-knowing has progressed to simply knowing; Dee knows what Abby saw too.
"I saw the same thing as Abby did. She told you all about it? I suppose so, you look like you licked a frog." The redhead smiles, rubbing fingers on her knuckles and jaunting her chin up. "Everything was perfectly fine in mine, too. Cept that poor fella, what cracked his neck in half-" She frowns at that, only to try and smile again up at Sable. "He was born healthy, I was a bit bumped up is all. Shitty birthday, really." Not only riots, but November 8th?
"'n' rest his soul, should it leave him," Sable says, making verbal motions of condolence but clearly holding little interest in the welfare of the unknown, "But let the Lord take him if that's His due f'r seein' you well on that day." She frowning a little, but her nerves have departed, "I'm glad t' hear you n' the little one are gonna be okay. Figure that makes m' mind up on how t' go 'bout seein' all that's may happen. Seems like some 'f us have, like, a position t' take… do 'r not, right? Do we wanna see it be, 'r do we wanna get out from under it? So, y' figure, all things considered, y'll want t' see what y' saw on the day it comes?"
"Well, with hopefully less screeching and glass, and more bedding and midwifery than what Abby can give me." Dee rubs a hand along her neck, sheepish. "But I won't mind if she's there. Abby's a godsend. I hope it goes well, obviously. If it has to be that way though, at least it's Abby. Then again, maybe since we think we know what's going to happen, it won't? Visions and time shenanigans are bizarre."
"I think I'll at least have the red velvet. Looks too good."
"Yeah," Sable says, "Figure if it was gonna be th' same as we saw it, we'd've all been thinking in th' moment, 'this here's what I saw', 'n', like, have it all spiral out int' endless whatchacallit? Deja vu, like."
But cupcakes… yes. Cupcakes are a better line of discussion. And Sable is satisfied. She'd also prefer a reduction in screeching and glass, if that glass is a treacherous sort. But even if things stack up the way they've seen coming, she'll take it. "How's this? Y' get a fair few, 'n' whatever's yer favorite y' can have all of, 'n' I'll take whatever 'cause I never had no occasion t' develop taste 'r nothin'. 'n' anythin' in between, we split, eh?" She cants her smile, "Thanks f'r comin' out, hon. I know y' can have a full dance card, 'n' that I sorta… barge th' fuck int' yer life like I had some sorta right t' it. Gotta know I'm grateful as all hell," she wrinkles her nose, "But there I go again, Jesus. Tell me, hon, if it's safe t' say here out in th' open, how'd y' get involved with all this nonsense like what Magnes used t' get up t' b'fore I set him straight with rock 'n' roll? I ain't meanin' to underestimate y', 'n' y' know how high I think 'f y', but I wouldn't've had y' pegged as, like… one of them." World saving types, that is.
Delilah squints a little, trying to follow Sable's train of thought. Difficult, not impossible. Translating, beep, beep, boop.
"I don't know what all Magnes got caught up in, but I got caught up with our mutual - friends- through other- um- friends." She cannot seem to say that kind of stuff in the open, yet. "Let us just say that I am more a fan of firebirds than I seem. And people in boats." Something, something, something. "I did what I could. It was a lot. I still do what I can, even if it has to be small."
Code for code. Sable's own translation mechanism can, with what information it has, make some sense of this. You can actually almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "Other time, gal… think y' could tell me th' whole story? I wanna know you, 'n' there's an awful lot t' know from what I figure. Honest… I feel like there's something restin' beneath my feet when I'm with you 'n' some others. Somethin' buried, but, like… there. 'n' y'all know it's name. I mebbe am late t' the party, but I'd like t' 't least know the shape 'f the loop I may be stuck outside 'f."
"It's shaped like a coffin or two. Or a couple dozen, at least." Delilah answers, as peacefully as she can manage without dredging something up. "Talk about buried. I think the whole story might bother you, but- if you want to hear about it, I think we can have a couple- sessions or something. I know I can trust you, but I should get my ducks in a row. A whole flock. I'm actually not sure what I can tell you about some stuff. Just about classified."
"Classified?" Sable says, squinting, "Ain't that a government thing t' say?" She lifts her hands, "Look, hon, I only ask t' hear what y'll tell me. I won't pry 'r nothin'. But I'm honest 'bout wantin' t' be a part 'f yer life, whatever that may take, 'n' whatever consequence it may have. I mean it when I let y' know," she gives Dee a level look, "I'm serious."
The waitress choses this exact moment to come upon them. She hesitates, looking between the two. Dee looks serene enough. Sable, never much the actress, is clearly frownyface. "Do you need another minute?" the waitress asks, "Or do you need cupcakes, stat?" Haha?
"Cupcakes!" Delilah takes her neutral, accepting look on Sable in turns it into a grin up at the waitress. "Are you sure you know what you want?" With Dee's tone, it is sort of a loaded question when she presents it to Sable.
"Darlin," Sable says, both brows rising, "What I want's th' only thing I'm sure of in this world. It's what you want that I'm interested in." Her smile is sly for the moment it's turned on Dee, but it converts to a bright grin to match Delilah's own as she turns to address the waitress. "Give this lady," she says, pointing the corner of her menu at Dee, "Whatever her heart desires." Her eyes cut to the line of sight that would give her a view of Delilah's belly, "'n' I guess if he's got a preference, it counts f'r somethin'."