Ruby and Glass


delilah_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Ruby and Glass
Synopsis The trap is sprung. Sable admits to having built Delilah into a fairy tale. Delilah makes it clear she's no Cinderella.
Date May 30, 2010

Gun Hill

This is such a bad idea.

At least that's Sable's thought, one she frequently vocalizes in the hours before the dinner date Magnes so craftily conceived of. As a concept, as an abstract notion, Sable was all for it. It was too funny, and too classic, not to work. But with the reality of the ploy coming closer and closer, Sable finds herself wracked with nerves. She curses the sauce she's making, nearly cuts herself while handling the chicken, almost forgets to heat up the water in time to cook the pasta - she's a mess. And she's a sweaty mess, from the heat of the kitchen augmented by her anxiety. This causes a small freak out ('No, no way. We gotta call this shit off. Fuckin' look at me! I wouldn't fuckin' go for me!') culminating in her retreat to the shower while Magnes puts on the final touches to the meal. Sable can fairly say she did /most/ of the work, albeit with reassurance and guidance, but for the last portion of the meal, she is dedicated to dolling herself up a little. Or at least getting herself squeaky clean.

When she emerges, her eyes are a little dry from the hair drier, and she has a somewhat windswept look, but she manages to pull it off, great thanks to her outfit, a new one which she glumly admitted was probably a good choice. She's wearing dark grey dress pants, about the smallest they could find, a pair of gender ambiguous black leather hush puppies, and a woman's button down shirt. After much deliberation, a tie was added to the ensemble, a simple black piece, thin and made of silk, hanging loosely down from her collar. She looks, for perhaps the first time in her life, rather pulled together.

Minutes away. The smell from the kitchen is delicious, thanks to Magnes' guidance. He has just wished her good luck and disappeared out the window, headed for his invented last-minute change of plans. Sable's alone, but not for long. She fidgets, looking down at her new shoes, scowling at them as if they are responsible for putting her in this position. She fiddles with the lights, trying to decide how much mood lighting is too little (or too much). She worries and worries and flicks herself in the nose for worrying. She waits.

For all of Sable's worry and fretting, there really is not much to be nervous about when it comes to Delilah over for dinner. She's come at the beck of Magnes, at the insistence that she should spend some quality time with him and his roomie. Delilah was quick to accept the offer of dinner; sometimes one just doesn't want to cook, and sometimes she is just so hungry that her own fridge cannot help her. It's gotten increasingly worse in recent weeks, her appetite growing absurdly so. Miss Trafford's journey out to dinner encompassed finding a ride through the still snow-laden streets of the city, more than one door held for her, and one salt-truck that refused to go any faster. As such, she is a little late when the time rolls in. Fashionably late, you see.

The knocks on the door are light, rapt. Delilah waits to be allowed inside, fixing the soft fabric of her creme colored cardigan under the sides of her long wool coat, making attempts to flatten the floral hem of a dark blue dress that flows soft down around her new little curve. As nice as can be, for something to be a casual dinner. At least, what she assumes it to be.

Sable looks around desperately for a mirror or reflective surface to check that she didn't somehow leave a smudge of tomato sauce on her nose that the shower miraculously missed but, finding none, is forced to trust Fate. She opens the door.

Not knowing Sable terribly well robs her unlikely and uncharacteristic costume of its full shock. Which is all for the best. The later the awkwardness hits, the better. The yellow eyed girl beams at Delilah, and steps aside, motioning her in. "Lookin' lovely," she says, mostly keeping her anxiety from her voice, "Come on in. Lemme take your coat or whatever…" she says, reaching to draw the wool coat from Delilah's shoulders, "Uh… Magnes kinda… somethin' came up. So it's just you 'n' me."

Delilah is making fingers at her red hair when the door opens, hand fiddling at a carefully brushed, loose curl of red over her shoulder. Her eyes lighten up when Sable appears, an easy smile roaming into place on her lips. As she edges inside, taking stock of the smaller girl and the environment, her shoulders stoop slightly to allow Sable to take her coat, a light 'thanks' whispered in her breath. "Came up?"

The redhead does not sound particularly disappointed- only momentarily puzzled. "Maybe it means we can gossip about him, huh?" Dee laughs, once, before looking slightly into the air towards the rest of the apartment, eyes glancing over this and that, the lights, over Sable nearby, unknowing of the true difference between this style and her usual. Seems Sable-y to her!

Sable laughs at this, genuine enough. Delilah is already making it easy to relax a bit. She folds the coat over her arm and stows it on the arm of the living room couch. The tenement rooms are not enormous, so dinner will likely have to be served on the coffee table, but they're young, and nothing quite beats dinner in the comfort of a sofa's embrace.

"Man, you must know all the shit he hasn't told me," Sable says, with a grin, "You'll hafta give me the dirt. I need t' be well armed, in case he gets smart." She sidles back towards Delilah, motioning to the couch, "Have a seat. I'll get the… y'know… food." She moves into the kitchen, starts gathering the place settings and bringing over to the coffee table, setting up. There's already a pillow on the ground. "I'll take the floor, hon," she says, "You take the couch. Place of honor. Y'look great, by the way," she sort of already mentioned it, but this is a different tone of comment, "Some gals can really carry themselves when they've got one in the oven. Got an… elegance to them. This, I dunno, bearing I guess. Poise," she scoots back towards the kitchen, "You've got that. Lucky."

"Oh, I've got so much dirt. I could fill a garden." Delilah smiles impishly now, allowing Sable to gesture her to the couch. She tucks her palms under the back of her skirt as she sits, staying straight and peering after Sable's walking to and fro. Her spine settles the rest of her comfortably into the cushions below. She seems entertained by Sable, at least, still smiling in her most friendly way. "That smells delicious, whatever it is."

"Thanks- I haven't really changed that much though. Not yet. I'm surprised Magnes hasn't been all over this little bump as it is. I wouldn't call myself elegant. Now, if I had a huge belly and was able to make it all the way here, maybe then."

"That'd be amazonian, hon, not just elegant," Sable says, with a chuckle, as she brings in the actual food. A colander full of spaghetti, the tongs rising out of it, a plate beneath to keep things clean. A glass casserole dish with three chicken breasts, breaded parmigiana style, with cheese melted over them. A dish for marinara sauce. Some breadstick, freshly made. Sable sets it all down, item by item, glancing up to see Delilah's reaction. It's clear she's hoping for honest approval.

"Ohhhhh man." Delilah is practically on the edge of her seat now in anticipation, her eyes lit with a slightly ravenous look. "Makes me glad I'm not getting heartburn, wow. Did you do this all by yourself?" Lifting a few fingers to knead at the collar of her cardigan, Delilah looks up at Sable expectantly. The flush of cold from outside is leaving her now, giving her freckled complexion a few rosy patches edging back to normal. For Sable's attempts at making dinner and having someone over for it, first impressions are going extremely well. It may be giving Dee the more romanticized Sable, though all the same, the raven-haired girl will be given many opportunities to allow her casual self to glimmer over between the nice clothes and cautionary manner.

"Well, that's the official story, yeah," Sable says, cracking a smile, "Magnes gave me a crash course and… well…" To say much more would be to give the game away, and while that's all part of the plan, the time isn't right. Gotta get comfortable, and get fed. "We got water, iced tea and… I wasn't sure if you could drink wine or nothin', but we have wine. Don't stand on, like, ceremony or nothin'! Dig in." Sable drifts back towards the kitchen, more a waiter than a companion at this given moment. She'll settle in eventually.

"Tea should be okay. I cut myself off cold turkey for stuff like wine." Delilah is hesitant to follow directives i.e. dining, but she does eventually, though she makes the choice to set up two nice-looking plates of food for the little table. She turns her head over to continue the process of settling in, playing house very easily. Even if it is not her house.

"I don't think I ever got the story right. How did you ever come to meet Magnes? And then move in? He's not exactly the most subdued guy to live with, I would think."

Sable takes a little while to return, doing /something/ or other in there. She lifts her voice to answer Delilah, however, present audibly if not physically. "Met 'im in this music store in the Village," she answers, "Back when I had two other members of the band. Nice kids, but it didn't pan out. I sorta… well, it just didn't work out. But then, like, months later, he called me, even though I pretty much stiffed him, and he just… lemme move in."

She returns with a precarious load. She has a glass of iced tea in each hand, and a little measuring cup full of what looks like water hanging by its handle from her thumb. She carefully sets each object down, and flicks the rim of the measuring cup. "Sugar water," she explains, "Tea's sweet, coffee's bitter. 't least that's how I see things." She finally, finally, takes a seat at the table, to find her plate already set up. She beams at Delilah, "You're just…" no word, she wiggles her nose, "Thanks, hon." She pours a little sugar water into her tea, the thicker liquid descending into the clear chestnut drink like an curtain descending. She lifts her glass, "T' better knowledge." Of each other, of course.

"Sounds like Magnes alright." Delilah takes her turn in fixing her tea like Sable does, seemingly unfamiliar with the way of it. She holds up her glass too, at long last. "To a pop quiz at the end of dinner?" It sounds like a joke. Is it? Who knows. Probably. Hopefully. Sable may be too distracted by doing well to ace a test right now. "And you guys have a band now, right? Any gigs yet, or is it mostly just jamming? I'm curious because while I was sick, my new roommate taught me a bit on the guitar. Getting some lessons now, maybe something like sessions would be good too? What do you think?"

Glasses clink, though Sable's brow arches at the mention of a pop quiz. Haven't had anything like that for longer than Sable can reliably remember. She smiles all the same, and takes a drink from her tea. She takes up her fork and knife next and cuts a piece of her chicken. She bears a momentary frown of concentration, reminding herself to eat at a reasonable pace and with a modicum of politeness. It mostly looks like she's giving her food a stern look, as if it needs to remember to behave itself.

”How far 'f yer lessons gone?” Sable asks. Her first reaction is interest rather than simple enthusiasm – she sounds curious. “You play an electric 'r an acoustic, 'n' like any particular style? Classical? Blues?” This is one area in which Sable doesn't need to pause to search for the right word. She takes her first bite of the chicken, chewing steadily, punishing the bird for making her want to wolf it down instead of having a polite, proper meal with her charming guest.

The fact that Sable is glaring at her chicken gets a mildly concerned glance. Oh. "I was using her acoustic, but I got myself a little electric when I could. I can play short songs, I'm still memorizing fingers. So I'm not really sure what I like yet. Looking. Have the feeling it's gonna be a hybrid of things, though." Delilah is cutting up her chicken while she speaks, a practiced hand slicing the meat a couple chunks smaller, and when she goes to take a bite, it is with a slight pause to gauge the taste when she bites down. The redhead makes a noise of pleasure then, smiling past her chewing.

"This is really good." Talking about stuff Sable knows, and compliments! What luck.

Sable is genuinely thrilled at Delilah's approval. She beams, "Cool," is her feelings on the matter. She twirls her spaghetti onto her fork, taking a bite, still having to remind herself to keep her pace down, but not so obviously now. "Yer gonna want yer fundamentals down before you do straight jamming, but any time y' want t' show me what you can," she grins, "You dunno what kinda pleasure it would be for me."

Fork and knife dip down towards her plate, hanging from her hands as Sable peruses Delilah over them, "So, f'rgive me is this's, like, a personal question 'r', like, /too/ personal a question… but are you Evo too? Sorry if that's, like, forward or somethin'. I only found out real recent-like myself, so I still sorta don't know what the, whatever… etiquette is."

Delilah can't help a little laugh, playing with her fork. "It's not too personal. We're in the same circles, it makes sense to ask. Yeah, I am. Though for some reason my ability isn't around right now. I kind of want to see someone about it, but it's not like I wanna risk the baby's safety by having it come back." From the sound of it, it is one of the more dangerous. "I'd like to practice with you too. I don't want to make a career of it, just know enough so I can play when I want."

A moment passes where Delilah considers something. "What does your ability do? If you don't mind my asking?"

Sable quirks her mouth to the side at this question. She has an official party line she prefers to take on this issue, but the setting feels wrong. For whatever reason, she answers with undiluted honestly. She shrugs, "I dunno, really. Somethin' that makes me real hard t' punch when I c'n see it comin'," she says, "Which gives Magnes all sorts of excuses t' try and wail on me, t'," she lifts her hands, utensils still gripped, doing her best to make air-quotes, "'Test the limits of my ability'." She even does a half decent impression of Magnes when he gets scientific sounding.

"Luckily, I get plen'y of chances t' smack 'im right back, so it works out," she grins. There's a brief pause, in which Sable regards her glass of sweetened tea for a moment before returning her gaze to Delilah, "This may be the silliest damn thing I've ever done, but Lord knows I'm enjoyin' it," she says, with an air of admission, "Y' don't believe it for a second, do ya?"

The response from Dee is a slightly more barking laugh. "I don't know what I'm supposed to believe. You seem more than a little awkward around me, which is weird. Nobody usually is." The other teenager grins, doing her best to try and soothe it. "I'm fairly sure you're trying to make a good impression on me, and so far it's working out. I knew you liked music, so I thought I'd mention it."

While Delilah is not entirely onto the game here, she at least is able to perceive that Sable feels awkward doing it.

Sable does laugh as well, shaking her head, "Aw, no, I mean… yeah. For sure. But… comon', Magnes havin' t' leave at the last moment b'fore you arrive? Me in… in this," she gestures at herself, at her tie, "It was Magnes' idea, y'see. I…" her eyes dart to the side for a moment, then come straight back to Delilah, "I mentioned t' him that I was, y'know," she shrugs, trying to play it cool, "Interested in you. So he decides t' pull a trick that's gotta be older th'n the wheel. 'n' I… well," Sable's smiles turns sheepish, "I agreed cuz I wanted I to. I knew it was crazy, and cheesy as hell, but…"

The yellow eyed girl sets down her knife and fork, resting her elbows at the edge of the table and leaning forward, hands lacing together, chin lightly resting atop. "Y'know how we met, some weeks ago, eh? At the Rock Cellar?" The way she says it, the way she looks a Delilah, suggests that Sable considers this line of thought somehow important. The confessional tone has only increased.

Delilah sits up to listen, not having really known the whole story from just a short span of time. She laughs a little while Sable explains, eyebrows lifted high and lips turned into a smile to hold an admittedly large giggle down. "Is that what this was then? A trick to get me over for a dinner date?" Dee shakes her head, still smiling. Oh, boy. Magnes knows her well enough to know that Lilah isn't as prude as to not want to consider something like this- if, you know- someone would only ask her. No reason to go around it like this! She waits a few seconds longer, allowing Sable to get into proper flirting position and start upon a more important thought.

Delilah tames her inner giggling, though her face is now a bit rosy from something not the cold outside. Her brown eyes find Sable's hawkish pair. "I've been having trouble remembering certain things, but for the most part, yes."

Sable's smile has a touch of something to it. She's excited, sure, the better part of nervousness. But there's something softer. Something like fondness. "Wasn't the first time," she says, "I didn't at first remember, but I sure as hell didn't f'rget. First time I saw you was… Jesus… over a year ago, I figure. The Lighthouse. You were in," she closes her eyes, summoning up the memory, "This colorful skirt, stood out like a beacon. I ain't afraid t' say, hon, I was pretty taken. Tried t' talk t' you actually. Said some damned stupid thing, I'm sure."

Her hands shift, and Sable hides her face momentarily behind them. "Lord…" she says, "So when I first just hear about you from Magnes… I dunno, I didn't think you were one 'n' the same. That seemed crazy. But when I thought of whatcha might look like, a lovely redhead with, I dunno… an energy that could pass even through hearsay… I thought of you. Though I didn't know it really was you. And when I finally saw you again, dimwit that I was, it didn't occur t' me. Didn't all fall together until just some days ago. It just hit me. All this time, ever since I first saw you, hon, you've stuck with me." Its strange. Sable's accent, often so strong and weirdly folksy, ebbs out of her during much of the admission.

"I'm not saying' anythin' crazy, like that it's a 'at first sight' kinda… y'know," Sable says, wrinkling her nose, "But I am sayin' that there's somethin' to y' that I can't explain nor reason away. So yeah…" she bites her lip, "Heh. That's how we met. Remember?"

All of this comes as quite a surprise. Delilah didn't remember her from before- not that long ago, just the once. It must have been the opening party. The redhead searches her memory for the night, only able to skim a few more residual memories from the top of her head. For the length of Sable's speech, she keeps her eyes on the other girl. Her hands are idle on her knees, fork having been left behind in favor of at least looking attentive as she can. Dee feels terrible that she cannot remember much of what Sable is talking about-

-but just maybe it is one of those things that one person remembers forever and another forgets. It happens. Especially with the apparent adoration being given to her, Lilah wishes that she was the former type. Sable's had a crush on a phantom girl that turns out to be Magnes' Delilah. Almost like a book. Or a made for television movie. It is flattering, and also leaving Dee a bit flustered. Not so sure what to say.

"I wish I remembered. I'm sorry- but- wow." The younger girl flutters her eyelids, bewildered, voice softer. A smile peeks out again, through the clouds that make up her stepping carefully onto the path. "I'm flattered that you thought so much of me, to remember that one time."

”Aw, well, that'd be too easy if y' did,” Sable says, looking a little bashful in the wake of her revelation. “'n' I'm okay with it. I'm a romantic, sure, but I ain't so far gone as t' think that carryin' a dream of someone with you means much more than just that… havin' a dream. That I'm sittin' here, across from you, right now…” She spreads her hands, “I'll take it, hon. Gladly and without the slightest damn complaint.”

Sable leans back a little, reaching behind herself to scratch the nape of her neck, tugging the collar a little. “'course, I'm a little out of my element here, y'know. I ain't really done much in the way of, like… dates. Datin' sure. Wooin', absolutely. 'n' I'm not tryin' to presume too much but… I dunno. You seem like someone who deserves somethin' besides the strong 'n' low I tend t' rely on.” She takes her tea glass in both hands, swirls the drink a little, fidgeting, “Mebbe I figured… better not t' rely on charm, y'know? Hell, I don' even know.”

But there it is. You know where I stand, 't least as much as I know it m'self,” Sable continues, setting the drink down, and lifting her eyes to Delilah, “Take it as you will, hon. I'll know y' as y'll let me, but I'm keen t' know you as best I can.”

A brief pause. “…I think I'm gonna pour myself jus' a liiiittle of that wine.”

"Be my guest." Delilah smiles at Sable across the table, referring to both the wine and getting to know her better. "You can treat me however you always treat others, I'm not exactly a glass slipper or anything. Far from it." At this, Dee laughs again with a little snort of derision. Her, a glass slipper.

"The best way to get to know me is to just be around me. Maybe I can come with you guys to some gigs, jam sessions- it wouldn't be just us, so no pressure like you're feeling now-" She can tell it's there. "You've been good company so far, so I don't see a reason why we can't start out as friends." Delilah puts it as plainly as she can muster for Sable, as easy to understand as if she'd written it on a board. There is a moment when Lilah glances down, smiling, one heel digging into the rug. She tilts her head against one shoulder. "As for if you want to know me more than that…we'll see how the first part goes?"

Sable starts to rise, but lingers to listen to Delilah, head tilting in a delayed reflection of Delilah's motion. She smiles, a touch sly. "Sure, sure," she says, "But I can't promise t' do quite that. T' treat y' like everyone else, anyone else… that'd be a lie. You're you." By logical law of identity this is necessarily true. But it clearly means more than that.

Her movement to the kitchen for the wine is unhurried, her step containing more of her usual saunter and less of the nervous energy that has been buzzing around in her this whole time. The ruse is revealed, the cards are on the table, and that is quite a relief. She returns with just a glass of wine - bringing the bottle would be overkill since Delilah won't drink. Sable takes her seat again, legs sticking straight out under it, hushpuppies a little closer to Delilah's own feet. Just a little increase in proximity. All this, and she hasn't even had a sip of wine yet!

"Then we'll be friendly," Sable says, partially effacing her previous caveat, "'n' see where it goes. 'course, I'm not gonna be waitin' for your exact say-so, hon. So…" she flashes a grin and gives a playful little chimp and growl, "Watch out."

"Don't worry. I'll keep my eye on you." Dee's tone implies that Sable isn't the first one to say something like that. Her toe breaches the small space under the table, briefly playing footsie at the other girl. "I grew the eyes in the back of my head at a very early age, I assure you. Walter won't know what hit him when he starts getting into shenanigans, I expect." Her hand touches a moment to her stomach, before going for the fork she had put down a few minutes previous to continue eating.

"Feel free to move at whatever pace fits you." Maybe Delilah will surprise her along the way.

Hushpuppies aren't ideal for footsie, but when that moment of contact is joined by Delilah's words, Sable's gaze turns into a peer. "Izzat so?" she says, before setting her lips to the glass and taking a quick drink. Moments later, she's on her feet, moving around the coffee table and sliding onto the couch, right next to Delilah. Her look is borderline insolent. 'Is this what you meant?' she tacitly teases, wineglass still in hand. She's turned towards Dee, their knees touching, though not more at this moment.

"I was told you were an open minded lady," Sable admits, voice a little lower since she's quite a bit closer, "'course, I dunno if you don't kiss an tell. But I wouldn't mind hearin' a few stories. Try 'n' bring a blush t' my cheek." A bold icebreaker, to be sure, but Sable seems set on challenging the veracity of Delilah's offer. 'Feel free'? Okay!

Being a whole head taller than Sable allows Delilah to watch her without actually watching her too closely. When she sits down beside her, Dee tilts her head to look over, eyelids half drawn and a small smile still lingering. Her knee feels bare, even with the skin-colored stocking. The redhead leans a little closer to Sable, feigning inability to listen in order to flirt. "I suppose that MAgnes told you that…?" Her voice is low, a slight draw to it, and her teeth draw thoughtfully- but not really- over her lower lip.

"I can start with the wax or the leather cuffs, but either is a good starting point." Goodness gracious.

If this were a cartoon, Sable would fall over backwards, sink into the floor, a headstone popping up over her. The inscription: 'Raven Diego - She died a happy woman'.

As it is, Sable just needs to keep herself from fumbling her wine. She is not used to being raised on her bets. Called, sure, but almost never raised. Not this early at least. But she has no reason or desire to back down. Her wineless hand slips behind Dee, fingers curling at the curve where hip and waist meet, and her leg shifts to let her foot brush against the side of Delilah's.

"Call me old fashioned," Sable says, voice just inches from a purr, "But I think cuffs are the best beginnin'. Let's everyone know where they stand… 'n' keeps 'em there."

Delilah doesn't shy away, still making an attempt to eat her food. Small bites now. Delilah's foot bumps against Sable's. "Shibari?" The redhead tilts her head to look and see if the word gets anything out of Sable, grand or not. Testing, one, two.

It may not be the most suave of reactions, but Sable immediately grins wolfishly and suppresses a snigger by biting her lip. She gives a quick nod, taking another drink of her wine. "A story unto itself," she explains after setting down the wine. Her dark brow arches, and she becomes momentarily thoughtful, considering. When she speaks, it's with a word of a sort uncommon to her vocabulary. "Asphyxia?" she inquires, almost offhandedly. No way she learned that term in any other context.

"Not often. Baby steps, I suppose." Delilah seems to take the topic well. No glass slipper, remember? "Cat 'o Nine tails?" Oh, ouch. This is an awful lot like poker now, isn't it? Delilah is somehow still involved with her food, no less.

Sable gives a looow whistle. Her eyes dart to the supper Delilah is consuming. The girl barely bats an eyelid. Sable is just more and more impressed. "Only a few times, 'n' never receivin'," she admits, "Didn't last long. I'm sure my technique could use improvin'." Another pause, briefer this time, "How many at once?" she presses, now. Partners, she means, as is made somewhat clearer when she points to herself and adds, "Got three others, jus' one time. Not sure it counted, though. One was a dude," she wrinkles her nose, "Never been my scene."

"Two, a few times. Nobody I still keep in touch with though. Old flames." Delilah is more like a ruby slipper, come to think of it. "Guys never been your scene, or do you mean multiples?" Well, either a girl that likes girls realized it after testing, or just knew. Best way to figure out is ask.

"Guys," Sable clarifies, "Groups I'm more th'n happy t' entertain!" Just to make that clear. "Naw. Been enough boys who've tried, 'n' early on I let 'em, but," she shakes her head, as if trying to keep those experiences banished from memory, "Dunno. Mebbe I'm missin' out on somethin', but honest," she grins, then leans close, hand rising to brush Delilah's hair to one side, lips placing a very light kiss just behind her ear, "I think I do just fine."

Unbeknownst to Sable- well, maybe- Dee's neck is one of her more sensitive places. Especially there. The redhead gives an almost involuntary wiggle in her seat, prompting Sable with her fork and a bite of chicken. Here! Take this!

"I think so too."

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