Participants:
| Scene Title | It's A Date |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Marjorie and Warren get to know eachother on a date. |
| Date | December 1, 2010 |
On the surface, there is little about the Golden Luck Dragon Restaurant that seems unusual. The two-floor and upscale restaurant is one of the finest eateries in Chinatown, serving traditional Chinese cuisine alongside the more Americanized "Chinese Food". The restaurant's ground floor is an open-concept structure, with the majority of the tables and booths visible from the entrance. Much of the decour is themed with rich browns of stained wood framework around the large doorways, deep crimson carpets, and gold trimmed curtains that give the restaurant a dimly lit and intimate quality even during the day.
The restaurant's second floor is a balcony that overlooks the ground floor dining spaces, usually reserved for large parties and functions, it is often closed off by a velvet rope.
While Warren may not have his new arm yet, he is interested in getting to know the woman who will be helping him learn to use it. They drove to the Golden Luck Dragon in his red 1969 Cobra Jet Mach 1, the interior of which appeared to be quite advanced. The steering wheel was something right out of Speed Racer.
He's wearing a long black trenchcoat over his suit, considering the chilly weather, walking to their table as they're led by a waiter. "Now, you don't worry about anything, alright? I'll be paying, just order anything you want."
Marjorie has her hair up, and her lips are painted red again. They always are. Curls spill out from the pins that hold her hair in place. She wears a dark-blue dress, the sort that makes her look like she's wearing a bustier, tight to the navel and then fanning out, with square shoulders. Over it is a black coat, which she removes to hang over the back of her chair.
"Well that's really quite kind of you, Mr. Ray," Marjorie says, smiling a soft smile toward the gentleman. "Really, the whole evening is quite enjoyable. I get out of the house so rarely anymore. The last time I went out, it turned into a police raid on some mafia men in a club." Yeah that was not a good night.
"Well, don't worry about those things with me, I'd know far in advance before any police raids happen." Warren snickers, pulling the chair out for her to sit down. He knows she's old fashioned, and it gives him an opportunity to play prince charming for once. It's a refreshing change from his usual dates of… well he can't quite remember any particularly normal dates. "I thought I could maybe use a break, and I thought a date, or, whatever you want to call this, would be a nice change of pace."
Marjorie smiles a little, a tint of natural blush touching her cheeks. "A date? Well I suppose that would be for you to decide, as you are paying." She's teasing a little, smiling across the table at him as she adjusts her hair just so. "I must admit I'm flattered youv'e even suggested the idea, Mr. Ray. I don't know if you're aware, but single mothers aren't exactly the most-sought after comodities on the dating market. Particularly in a city like New York, I believe." She opens her menu.
"Well, if it's up to me, then date it is." Warren playfully grins, opening his menu as well, taking his time trying to find something to order as one of his gloved fingers runs down the list. "I find it endearing, you in particular. You manage to be a single mother, but you have this air about you, I don't know what it is, but when I look at you, I just think you embody something very comfortable. You having a kid doesn't bother me, kids are great, and I can build toys."
Marjorie smiles a little, glancing down teh wine menu first. "Would a French red be alright? I always prefer red in the winter. Keeps you a little bit warmer, you know?" She lets him answer, while she herself decides how to treat the news that this is, in fact, a date. "Perhaps that air is simply that you've yet to see me pull my hair out when Owain tries to flush my car keys, or he decides that mommy's candle wax looks just like candy should. I doubt I'm so endearing then."
"Sure, you probably know a little more about wine than me, I don't drink much, I take medication to regulate a few side effects of my ability. But I'll be fine tonight, I don't have anymore work today, so I won't need to use my ability." Warren rubs his chin, sitting up straight as he's apparently decided what he wants. "Maybe not endearing, but certainly adorable?"
"Oh Mr. Ray," Marjorie teases lightly over the top of her menu. "Now that's just plain flattery." She smiles a little bit more, then looks back. "A simple bordeaux is good enough for me, if that would be alright for you. I don't want anything to interact poorly with your medication, so maybe just a glass instead of a bottle? I know I can't have but a glass myself before I start getting sleepy."
"A glass for each of us sounds fine, I do have to drive after all." Warren reaches out, placing a hand over her's. "And please, Marjorie, I told you before, you can call me Warren." he reminds, then slowly draws his hand back when the waiter comes. He orders Bok Choy Chicken for himself, and adds, "And we'll take two glasses of Bordeaux."
And for Marjorie? "Steamed vegetables, please, with the szechuan." The woman likes her spice, and her health it seems! "Warren, of course. I apologize, I'm so used to falling back on formality. It's usually better to err on teh side of 'Mr.' or 'Miss.' when working in a busines,s so as not to offend anybody by becoming familiar too quickly."
"I want you to be familiar with me. We'll be spending a lot of time together, so there's no point in being stuffy business partners." Warren hands the menu to the waiter, then reaches to offer her's up to him as well, then the man goes to deliver their orders to the chefs. "So, if the dating field is difficult for a single mother, when was the last time you were on one?"
Marjorie smiles. "The mafia bust," she explains easily. "Though that was a blind date, and the fellow didn't exactly call back." She actually beat down his door with her son in tow when her brother might have been after them, and to no avail. Not exactly fatherhoo material, that one. "Before that?" She sits back, thinking a little bit with her red lips pursed. "Mmmm. Back in Illinois. Not fora year, if not more. Gosh I must sound like a shut-in."
"You're a busy woman, and I'm a busy man, I understand perfectly. If anything, your lack of dating gives me a little more confidence. A guy always likes to feel as if he has a chance." Warren leans forward, giving her his full attention. "So, tell me a bit about your son?"
"Owain?" She asks, her voice turning a tinge protective. Warren is, after all, a strange man asking about a son that is a rather hot comodity - or was, before his father was killed. But that's what Marjorie wants. She wants to bury the ghosts, she wants the pain of the past never to be her son's pain. So she trudges on. "He's 10, he's very good at basketball and plays several instruments. Piano included, of course. He's a very all-American boy, really. He'll be a football quarterback, no doubt, with a very pretty girlfriend who grows up to be a wedding planner or some such thing I'm sure."
"I remember being all about soccer and chess as a teenager." Warren isn't sure what's true and what isn't, but he knows how to play soccer and chess, so on some level, there has to be some hint of truth to his memories. He sounds interested, attentive, nodding a few times. "Sounds like a good kid. I don't mean to pry, but I've never dated a mother before, so correct me if I step over any boundaries."
"Not at all, I suppose it's quite similar to asking a dog-person how their new schitzu is doing. Except on a far greater scale." The wine is brought with ice waters, and Marjorie lifts hers expertly by the stem, holding it toward Warren for a toast. "Cheers. To a lovely, quiet evening, with no wax burning and no pet worms turning up in jars in my refridgerator." That is what she's thankful for.
"To no sudden robot rampages in my workspace, and ice monsters in my drainage tunnels." Warren may or may not be joking, snickering as he clinks his glass with her's. "You may be the most healthy person I know, I think you could be, well… really good for me."
And the glasses come together to signify what may well be a quiet, uneventful evening. How fun indeed.