[ Clay shuts the door behind her, smiling despite the tension. Maybe because of it.
Into the drivers side, he buckles in and puts the car in gear. Turning down the volume on his classic rock station, he looks over at her. Oh, so casually. She smells like a bride’s bouquet- floral, but luxurious and like the promise of a good time. ]
[ It’s a gut reaction to try and place the barriers back up, but Cadence thinks better of it—-what harm is there in knowing her music tastes at this stage? ]
…I usually stick to classical though. Easier to concentrate while I’m working if I can’t have silence, but there’s a nostalgic element I like. Classic rock is decent if I have to go more contemporary though.
[ She steals a glance over to the driver’s seat, trying to gauge his reaction. ]
I’m assuming you’re still waiting for the second coming of Led Zeppelin.
[ He chuckles at the niche joke about “contemporary” taste. A glance from him was well timed, noting the change in her icy knee jerk response and earning him a meeting of their eyes for a half-second. ]
I’m not that in to music, honestly, so what I end up overhearing repeatedly sticks with me. Or irritates the piss out of me.
[ Clay motions to the dashboard at the “now playing” of Queen. ]
Music genre went rather quickly in recent years- but this kind of music seems to retain popularity. And I can see why.
[ Another glance. And he offers a snarky reward for the opening up. ] Classical, though? Huh.
The main options are that it sticks with you or "irritates the piss out of you"? That's ironic...
[ She says it casually enough, a bit of snark to parry his own, but she repeatedly clenches and relaxes her left-hand fist in her lap, an unconscious tic from the uncomfortable vulnerability of even this basic line of conversation. ]
Yes, specifically with the capital 'C'--I know they lump a bunch of shit under classical music nowadays, and I like Baroque and Romantic well enough, but I'm specifically talking Haydn, Mozart, Schubert. I don't know what was in the water in Vienna then but...it works for me.
surprise i edited a draft from my phone that started EXACTLY THe same-
[ He sighed with an eye roll while he considers classical- sorry Classical music. Not his thing- he was a sucker for emotional work, so without vocals or a visual he got a bit bored of Classical. His fingers tap a mindless beat to the radio on the gear shift he’s holding onto while driving with his left- his version of her tic as he unconsciously very hard to look impressive but casual. Were the traffic not moving at that moment he might have noticed. ]
[ She’s all too familiar with the contradiction, and she gives another glance at him if the comparison isn’t already too obvious.
Her hand flexes her lap again, trying to decide if asking more questions in return is a trap. ]
…but you like Opera still.
[ Even she’s not sure if that’s a statement or question (the latter seems safer.) She keeps her eyes on the road from the car window, watching a delivery man on a bike nearly taking out an unobservant tourist. ]
[ Clay had fully prepared a mental script. He expected to tear this conversation from her, each question carefully considered to provoke her into sharing some small hint of her life outside of the Cadence Laine he worked with. But, past the snake-bitten and equally sharp creature he was all too familiar with- There was more to her.
Some curiosity- no, it was something lustful and perhaps deeper now, if he allowed that- craved to know that woman from the moment he saw her. Something in her eyes attracted him and the ferocity of her intellect and wit kept him drawn in.
As such, he’s taken aback and unprepared for her to contribute something back. It felt like a statement… but with an invitation to comment. How very well done, knowing her caution well by this point. Feeling like he’s trying to charm a snake, he minutely turns his head and flits his eyes to glance at her and is sure he met her eye for the briefest moment before he looked back to the road. ]
I do. I’m nostalgic for it, at least- but I thought you might also enjoy this show. Sirens-
[ His eyes flit to his right again. He never forgot that she didn’t truly admit to being that species Or deny it. ]
-originated in Greece, or so I have been led to believe. Your accent’s minutiae also has me speculating that you have Mediterranean roots. [ A grimace as he quickly tacks on an apology. Or some version of it. ]
I remember how asking you “personal” questions resulted prior, so I hope you’ll be forgiving of my attempt to entertain both of us with this decision.
[ Cadence can feel his eyes on her for a moment but keeps hers resolutely on the scenes they pass along the sidewalk: a mixture of professionals clearly on their way to blow off steam after a later day trading others’ money, a gaggle of foreign tourists slack-jawed looking up at the sky scraper, an irate local shoulder checking one as he passes them, all in a backdrop of sleek office lobbies and tacky gift shops with five-dollar statues of liberty, courtesy of Chinese manufacturing.
It’s the furthest thing away from the coastlines of Ancient Greece, and while she’s always enjoyed the Opera, she doubts it’ll be able to pull her out of this dirty little Metropolis and bring her even metaphorically back home. That bridge was torched a long time ago. ]
I guess so, I wouldn’t really know. The Mediterranean can be a big place, and very interconnected…people do like move around, immigrate, as you know. But yes, we did cover I immigrated from Europe already. As did you.
[ He’s fishing, if she can excuse herself for the pun. It’s not new for him to show interest in her history, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned the right to it either. ]
Your money, pick what you want. I don’t really care one way or another.
[ He almost chuckles at the expected rebuff and not-an-answer to the not-a-question he had countered with. The brakes are smooth, thankfully, as he’s cut off by a Lyft driver who capitalized on a breath of space he left in front of the New Jersey plates he’s been behind. He resists the urge to honk as he has to wait for them to finish their intrusion, growling quietly in his throat. ]
Asshole- You’re fucking welcome.
[ He almost reverted to the aforementioned questions, but it irks him when she questions his memory too much to ignore the comment. His nose flares with annoyance as he rides the black car to make it though a yellow light. His hand tightens on the gear shift, the muscle memory of a manual transmission from years ago still affecting his habits.
I do remember. Europe is, as you put it, a big place. I’m just trying to tell you I thought about you when I picked the show. You don’t have to make everything a fucking argument.
[ Clay might be too distracted by the road to notice, but there’s a subtle slump to Cadence’s shoulders as her posture softens. This is familiar, this can work with. ]
Who’s arguing? You really need to calm down. I’d hate to get there and cause a scene.
[ She takes out a compact from her clutch as she says it, the smallest smirk on her face as she goads him. Flipping the contact open, she checks her lipstick, confirming her hair and make-up remain perfectly unmussed. ]
[ He snorts as he resumes their drive, putting on his turn signal at the next intersection and waiting for pedestrians. The next comes like an admission, after he re-straightens the wheel once the turn is complete. ]
I guess I am. Let me… rephrase. Do you have to invite an argument all the time?
[ Cadence’s movements make him turn to look at her once he’s behind a car again and he rolls his eyes. And yet, takes the opportunity to check his hair in the rear view while she has him thinking about it. ]
[ Cadence’s primping slows for a second as Clay’s words settle.
“You surely do not want such violent attentions…?”
Cadence curtly snaps her compact shut, as if the sharp noise alone can banish the lingering ghosts of the past. ]
I’m not “inviting” anything—you can react however you choose. But yes, if I’ve had a lot of people project their own actions onto me, if that’s what you mean. It’s easier to blame my kind for a deadly shipwreck than a bad captain who remains in power both on land and sea.
[ She’s blatantly deflecting, but it’s not untrue: for as many men’s lives that she’s scuttled, Cadence has been blamed nearly as much for an unprovoked wandering eye destroying house and home all on his own. ]
[ Clay blinks. Twice. Utterly unsure how to respond, he mentally unpacks all of that statement. The deflection makes his initial anger dissipate as he waits in a line of impatient drivers for the valets. As the car idles he lets out a scoff and looks over at her profile.
Nothing new: he can’t get a read on what she’s thinking. She looks simply indifferent and haughty- and painfully gorgeous. ]
I know a bit about having “my kind” blamed for a lot of stupid shit. But don’t make it sound like you’re a victim because you said something snarky and I “responded how I chose;” I’m an asshole, I fucking know that. But you’re-
[ He won’t say a bitch. He won’t say a gaslighting bitch, but he wants to. Except he can tell there’s something making her like this, about this. That was too personal of a thing to say, by her high standards.
He’s worried he’s too close to something that hurts and he won’t scare her farther into whatever fucking self imposed wall this is. Gaslighting bitch or not he’s invested in this. Financially, emotionally, fuck it. He closes the thought quickly, not wanting to give Cadence a chance to interrupt his hanging sentence with more of her bite. ]
You’re too smart to be anyone’s scapegoat. I know that, too.
no touchy my emotional trauma it was a birthday gift
[ She’s over-reaching, she knows it, but that look he gives and the way he calls out her bullsh— ]
It’s not about intelligence.
[ Again, another half-truth she’s leaning on too heavily; she’s lived long enough to know that if someone wants to point fingers, there’s not much chance of altering that choice.
But choosing to spark that ire and control it from the get-go? There was power in that, safety even if used right. ]
[ Clay is saved from an impulsive reply by being waved to bring the car forward. He pushes the gas pedal gently and clears his throat. He shuts off the car and looks at her again, smirking in his best charming manner while the employees write down his license plate— because the would-be date had to be normal for another few minutes. ]
I do. We’ll finish this inside- You have your purse? And make up thing?
[ If sparking and shaping someone’s anger like a flame is a means of control, then Clay is robbing her of it. She stares at him for a second, trying to remember if the hot-head’s self-discipline was always this strong, before pulling her eyes away from him and clicking open her clutch. ]
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no subject
Into the drivers side, he buckles in and puts the car in gear. Turning down the volume on his classic rock station, he looks over at her. Oh, so casually. She smells like a bride’s bouquet- floral, but luxurious and like the promise of a good time. ]
What do you listen to?
no subject
[ It’s a gut reaction to try and place the barriers back up, but Cadence thinks better of it—-what harm is there in knowing her music tastes at this stage? ]
…I usually stick to classical though. Easier to concentrate while I’m working if I can’t have silence, but there’s a nostalgic element I like. Classic rock is decent if I have to go more contemporary though.
[ She steals a glance over to the driver’s seat, trying to gauge his reaction. ]
I’m assuming you’re still waiting for the second coming of Led Zeppelin.
no subject
I’m not that in to music, honestly, so what I end up overhearing repeatedly sticks with me. Or irritates the piss out of me.
[ Clay motions to the dashboard at the “now playing” of Queen. ]
Music genre went rather quickly in recent years- but this kind of music seems to retain popularity. And I can see why.
[ Another glance. And he offers a snarky reward for the opening up. ] Classical, though? Huh.
no subject
[ She says it casually enough, a bit of snark to parry his own, but she repeatedly clenches and relaxes her left-hand fist in her lap, an unconscious tic from the uncomfortable vulnerability of even this basic line of conversation. ]
Yes, specifically with the capital 'C'--I know they lump a bunch of shit under classical music nowadays, and I like Baroque and Romantic well enough, but I'm specifically talking Haydn, Mozart, Schubert. I don't know what was in the water in Vienna then but...it works for me.
surprise i edited a draft from my phone that started EXACTLY THe same-
[ He sighed with an eye roll while he considers classical- sorry Classical music. Not his thing- he was a sucker for emotional work, so without vocals or a visual he got a bit bored of Classical. His fingers tap a mindless beat to the radio on the gear shift he’s holding onto while driving with his left- his version of her tic as he unconsciously very hard to look impressive but casual. Were the traffic not moving at that moment he might have noticed. ]
That actually surprises me.
non-sarcastic questions = interest = weakness!!!
[ She’s all too familiar with the contradiction, and she gives another glance at him if the comparison isn’t already too obvious.
Her hand flexes her lap again, trying to decide if asking more questions in return is a trap. ]
…but you like Opera still.
[ Even she’s not sure if that’s a statement or question (the latter seems safer.) She keeps her eyes on the road from the car window, watching a delivery man on a bike nearly taking out an unobservant tourist. ]
meanwhile, try to shut him up
Some curiosity- no, it was something lustful and perhaps deeper now, if he allowed that- craved to know that woman from the moment he saw her. Something in her eyes attracted him and the ferocity of her intellect and wit kept him drawn in.
As such, he’s taken aback and unprepared for her to contribute something back. It felt like a statement… but with an invitation to comment. How very well done, knowing her caution well by this point. Feeling like he’s trying to charm a snake, he minutely turns his head and flits his eyes to glance at her and is sure he met her eye for the briefest moment before he looked back to the road. ]
I do. I’m nostalgic for it, at least- but I thought you might also enjoy this show. Sirens-
[ His eyes flit to his right again. He never forgot that she didn’t truly admit to being that species Or deny it. ]
-originated in Greece, or so I have been led to believe. Your accent’s minutiae also has me speculating that you have Mediterranean roots. [ A grimace as he quickly tacks on an apology. Or some version of it. ]
I remember how asking you “personal” questions resulted prior, so I hope you’ll be forgiving of my attempt to entertain both of us with this decision.
she says, like a liar
It’s the furthest thing away from the coastlines of Ancient Greece, and while she’s always enjoyed the Opera, she doubts it’ll be able to pull her out of this dirty little Metropolis and bring her even metaphorically back home. That bridge was torched a long time ago. ]
I guess so, I wouldn’t really know. The Mediterranean can be a big place, and very interconnected…people do like move around, immigrate, as you know. But yes, we did cover I immigrated from Europe already. As did you.
[ He’s fishing, if she can excuse herself for the pun. It’s not new for him to show interest in her history, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned the right to it either. ]
Your money, pick what you want. I don’t really care one way or another.
no subject
Asshole- You’re fucking welcome.
[ He almost reverted to the aforementioned questions, but it irks him when she questions his memory too much to ignore the comment. His nose flares with annoyance as he rides the black car to make it though a yellow light. His hand tightens on the gear shift, the muscle memory of a manual transmission from years ago still affecting his habits.
I do remember. Europe is, as you put it, a big place. I’m just trying to tell you I thought about you when I picked the show. You don’t have to make everything a fucking argument.
no subject
Who’s arguing? You really need to calm down. I’d hate to get there and cause a scene.
[ She takes out a compact from her clutch as she says it, the smallest smirk on her face as she goads him. Flipping the contact open, she checks her lipstick, confirming her hair and make-up remain perfectly unmussed. ]
i love them
I guess I am. Let me… rephrase. Do you have to invite an argument all the time?
[ Cadence’s movements make him turn to look at her once he’s behind a car again and he rolls his eyes. And yet, takes the opportunity to check his hair in the rear view while she has him thinking about it. ]
Or have you always been like this?
no subject
“You surely do not want such violent attentions…?”
Cadence curtly snaps her compact shut, as if the sharp noise alone can banish the lingering ghosts of the past. ]
I’m not “inviting” anything—you can react however you choose. But yes, if I’ve had a lot of people project their own actions onto me, if that’s what you mean. It’s easier to blame my kind for a deadly shipwreck than a bad captain who remains in power both on land and sea.
[ She’s blatantly deflecting, but it’s not untrue: for as many men’s lives that she’s scuttled, Cadence has been blamed nearly as much for an unprovoked wandering eye destroying house and home all on his own. ]
no subject
[ Clay blinks. Twice. Utterly unsure how to respond, he mentally unpacks all of that statement. The deflection makes his initial anger dissipate as he waits in a line of impatient drivers for the valets. As the car idles he lets out a scoff and looks over at her profile.
Nothing new: he can’t get a read on what she’s thinking. She looks simply indifferent and haughty- and painfully gorgeous. ]
I know a bit about having “my kind” blamed for a lot of stupid shit. But don’t make it sound like you’re a victim because you said something snarky and I “responded how I chose;” I’m an asshole, I fucking know that. But you’re-
[ He won’t say a bitch. He won’t say a gaslighting bitch, but he wants to. Except he can tell there’s something making her like this, about this. That was too personal of a thing to say, by her high standards.
He’s worried he’s too close to something that hurts and he won’t scare her farther into whatever fucking self imposed wall this is. Gaslighting bitch or not he’s invested in this. Financially, emotionally, fuck it. He closes the thought quickly, not wanting to give Cadence a chance to interrupt his hanging sentence with more of her bite. ]
You’re too smart to be anyone’s scapegoat. I know that, too.
no touchy my emotional trauma it was a birthday gift
It’s not about intelligence.
[ Again, another half-truth she’s leaning on too heavily; she’s lived long enough to know that if someone wants to point fingers, there’s not much chance of altering that choice.
But choosing to spark that ire and control it from the get-go? There was power in that, safety even if used right. ]
And you should be smart enough to know that much.
no subject
I do. We’ll finish this inside- You have your purse? And make up thing?
no subject
Fine, and yes, it’s here. Lead the way?