Faux Starstruck


amadeus_icon.gif peyton2_icon.gif

Scene Title Faux Starstruck
Synopsis After winning a date with Peyton in an auction, Amadeus makes painstaking if illegal plans for an epic date, but it turns out both would prefer something more "normal."
Date August 21, 2010

A Starbucks

At around 1PM, Amadeus wastes no time arriving at the Starbucks to meet Peyton Whitney. He sits across from her with a thick folder on the table, and he can't seem to stop grinning, like when someone finally meets a celebrity. "Sorry, fuckin' surreal, sitting in a Starbucks with Peyton fu— Whitney." He's trying to chill out on making her middle name 'fuckin'. "I've been doing all sorts of plannin' and stuff, so, here's what I got so far." He opens the folder, then starts sitting out pictures to fancy restaurants and clubs, and plane tickets from places ranging from fairly mundane, to downright exotic. "Don't ask how I got the tickets." Since the simple answer would be 'grifting and pick pocketing'. "The clubs and restaurants are people who owe me for not completely fuckin' their businesses up, and I got a few to let us eat for free 'cause I said you were doin' a reality show with hidden cameras and we'd advertise 'em."

The faux-celebrity sits in what is probably shock as Amadeus jumps from small talk to this monologue. Her hands are wrapped around a Venti Caramel Light Frappuccino that she hasn't even sipped yet. She shakes her head. Surreal is right.

"Amadeus," Peyton begins, "we're not going to eat for free and we're not going to lie about me being in a reality show. And I'm not going to fly anywhere with you, as much as it'd be nice to leave this city somedays. Also, I'm not a star or anything. I'm just a person, you know? So there's no reason to be all star struck or whatever this is, right? You don't have to live up to some idea of the kind of date I'd go on, if it's outside your means." She gestures at the folder. "I don't go to places like that much anymore."

"I just don't wanna come off like a total fuckin' loser by taking you to some shit place. I had a plan, if you didn't wanna fly somewhere, I could try an' talk some guy into trading a yacht for a day for the tickets, and I could throw a big party." Amadeus starts collecting the tickets and the restaurants and club pictures, stuffing them back into the folder. "I mean, what, you want me to take you to some dump I hang out in? Where the bartender is so fuckin' seedy he won't even care if you smoke a joint while you're sippin' on your whiskey? You sure you could handle that kinda thing?" he asks with a bit of a challenging grin, leaning his arms on the table.

"What, like Shooters?" Peyton tosses back with a roll of her eyes. Knowing the name of the Staten Island bar probably means she's actually been there. "I can handle more than you think. I don't tend to go to those kinds of places either unless I have to, but how about something in between? If you hadn't noticed, I'm not really red-carpet girl these days. Yachts and planes and that kinda thing are sort of behind me."

She runs a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ears as she finally takes a sip of her coffee. "Look, you bid on me, so you know, what do you want to do? I'm not going on a trip, though. It's a one-day deal. And not like 24 hours, but maybe like … six." She did warn him she'd have rules.

"I haven't been out of jail long, last I remember you were still like a classier and hotter Paris Hilton." Amadeus takes a sip of his black coffee, though watches her the whole time. "But you seriously wanna know what I'd wanna do? I wanna hang out, go to a bar, talk and stuff, like I would with a normal girl. I just thought that kinda shit would bore you."

"I'm taller than her, too. And brunette. Oh, wait, so is she," Peyton says with a little bit of a smirk, regarding Paris. They used to hang out, before Peyton manifested, got kidnapped, and became a terrorist. People change.

"Here's the thing, Amadeus. I am a normal girl. I mean, as normal as anyone else, I guess, whatever the hell normal is. So just hanging out and having dinner or drinks is fine. I don't need to go to fancy places, but if that's what you want to do, we can, and I can pay, and you don't have to lie about why we're there." She takes another long pull of her frozen coffee. "So when do you wanna go?"

"I couldn't let you pay. Didn't we just, whats the word… establish that I didn't wanna look like a loser? But we can go have dinner at a normal place, then get drinks, or just go to Friday's and do both at the same time." Amadeus takes a longer sip of his coffee now, staring at her in a way that says he's not quite convinced of how 'normal' she is. "Whenever's good for you. I don't have anything to do except collect some college dude's debt. Can't believe these straight-laced guys get all addicted to gambling websites and pot they can't afford."

"Yes, only get addicted to what you can afford, that's my motto," Peyton says with a little chuckle. One might think she's speaking from experience, as her public history includes her stint in rehab after a DUI at 16. The public doesn't know she was not the one driving, of course. "How about Friday's and a movie after? I'll even let you pick, as long," and she lifts a finger, "as it's playing at a normal theatre. Nothing in one of those scary places with blacked-out windows and X's in neon lights, right?"

Peyton takes another sip and eyes him. "So I have to ask what the jail was for. It's not a deal breaker, but you know. I co-own a security firm. I need to worry about my interests."

"I was in jail a few times, mostly before I was even eighteen. But the last time was like, possession, and I got three years for it. I get three years for possession, but I bust out a Chinese guy's windows 'cause he's not paying one of the Triad their debt, and I get a few months." Amadeus shrugs, clearly not really 'getting' the legal system. His demeanor cools down a bit, mostly because Peyton starts to seem more and more like the kind of girl he prefers to pick up in a bar. "I grow my own pot, so I don't worry about affordin' shit. Maybe we could smoke up after the movie?"

She stifles a smile at the pot comment, but gives a shake of her head. "I think the drugs are kinda behind me. I mean, I know, pot's nothing, but," she shrugs, glancing around to be sure she's out of earshot of anyone, though it's not like it's a secret in her case, "I kinda avoid drugs since I manifested my ability. Even alcohol was enough to mess me up when I first did, but I've got that figured out. Drugs, it's a little harder to control. So, you know. Thanks, though."

Pulling the purse over her shoulder, indicating she's about one here, Peyton adds, "Pick a day next week?"

Amadeus grabs a pen and a piece of paper, writing his number down and holding it out to her. "Monday. And as long as you don't got teeth in your pants or anything, since a guy likes to think he might score, I'm cool with you bein' Evolved." he assures as he goes back to drinking his coffee.

"Nope. I just shoot lasers out of there," Peyton quips back with another roll of her eyes, taking the paper. "All right. We can figure out time and place before then. I'll meet you." She's not about to let a criminal know where she lives! Well, aside from Cardinal and Smedley and others. "Have a good day, Amadeus," she says over her shoulder as she heads for the exit.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License