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Wesley wasn't one prone to blind dates, necessarily. His contact, a doctor at one of the city's less savory hospital, had told him he needed to socialize more for his health, if nothing else. Wesley had never developed a taste for prostitutes - he did enough business all day, he didn't need it in the bedroom. And yet his odd hours and constant workaholic's nature meant that he rarely found anyone else who could appreciate his dedication - or put up with his eccentricities.
This very much described a woman the doctor knew. He asked if he could put Wesley and the woman in contact, maybe set up a date. Just to see. He warned Wesley that the woman was difficult, willful and prone to backtalk. She was also smart, compassionate and as obsessed with her job as Wesley was to his.
Oh, and she was Cuban. Wesley preferred ethnic women generally. Merely for aesthetic reasons.
He was intrigued enough by the description to say yes. Which leads to now, to hear, sitting in this restaurant, a cup of coffee freshly poured, awaiting her arrival. He anticipated her being late - he was late himself. But he also believed she would be here. If she was anything like him, she would be.
*
Claire didn't have time for dating. The last time she actually had time -to- go to a date was when she was getting married. But, the night nurses all thought that she needed a little something to occupy her time. Instead of being buried in books and bodies, they figured that another thing should be on the menu, as all working women need a doting man and.. who the hell were they kidding? They wanted Claire to get laid.
She knew that's what they meant, Claire wasn't a dumbass.
So, with that said, she does walk in late. Checking on the clinic and being pushed out the door after helping someone.. (well, we won't say why), wearing a nice little black dress though the sleeve of her tan coat carried a tiny, tiny hint of blood. She walks in, and with the picture that she's had of the man, she spots him with a slight smile, moving to the table to immediately settle down with a leg crossed over the other underneath.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm late I know.." She says, getting comfortable, attempting to take off her tan coat to reveal slender arms.
*
Wesley stands from his seat and moves around to pull out her chair, "Not at all. Anyone in your line of work is prone to that sort of thing," he says.
"I took the liberty of ordering coffee for myself, but wasn't sure if you preferred tea or just water," he says. "I'm sure the waitress will make her way around again eventually. I think the trickery of these places is they make waiting part of the ambiance - hence the term waitress. So complaining about how prompt your food is becomes bad form, regardless of how much they dare charge," he says mildly.
"But I've eaten here before and always been pleased. Sadly, usually alone. I'm more than pleased to have company at last. I'm James," he says, "Which you already knew but I am compelled by etiquette to introduce myself nonetheless."
*
"Well, you're prepared.." Claire makes the comment, hanging the coat upon the back of her chair as she leans to the side, drawing her fingers along her cheek to toss the hair away from her face. She doesn't pay attention mostly to his words, her fingers already grasping the menu to skim across it, just to see what was there upon the menu was too rich for her tastes..
..in fact..
This is downright robbery. "Wow.." She says, finally lifting her eyes towards him with a smile. "Yes. I already knew that. Claire, but I'm already sure you knew that too, though I'm compelled by the need to tell you my name since you told me yours." She grins then, skimming the menu once more. "You sure you don't want to get a burger? I don't mind.. a plate of anything on this menu costs more than my apartment.."
*
Wesley shakes his head, "This is fine. I am lacking for many things in my life, but I'm thankful to say that money is not one of them. A good reason to spend it, that I have been without. This is certainly that."
"I'd recommend the strip steak or the lobster rolls - rather like a hot dog, only with lobster. I think they do Connecticutt style here, which uses butter rather than mayonnaise, which is my preference. But I'm a New Yorker, I have to oppose Boston wherever it raises its ugly head," he says.
*
Claire doesn't outright give him that 'holy crap' look, but her brows does raise at his words. "Well then.." She mutters quietly, highly uncomfortable. Even with the suggestion that he puts out there, she decides to put him to the test. He was cool, too cool. Relaxed. Uncaring. A bit wordy, which means that she didn't have to speak. "Alright.."
When the waitress returns and asks for an order, Claire looks over the menu once, then carefully places it down atop of the table. This date was 'okay' so far in her book, he was quite handsome, but nothing sparked that fire within to make her want to follow him back to his place. Though, he could be crazy. Claire's crazy meter was non-existant, and she's met a ton.
"I'll take the strip steak, a plate of lobster rolls, a large salad, tiramisu and a bottle of 1944 Porto Millesime." She doesn't break stride, she just turns to watch Wesley, lips pursed. "Also a crab rissotto."
*
Wesley laughs and shakes his head, "Willing to take advantage of an opportunity presented. See, that…that I like," he says. "We have to take chances whenever we can. Keep our teeth sharp and our wits about us, so when, say, a well-dressed fool offers you whatever's on the menu, you can take the offer wholeheartedly. I've made similar offers, to men and women alike, in business and pleasure. Most hem and haw and then pick something modest from the menu, assuming I'm being generous."
He takes a sip of his coffee, "Let me be plain. I am not generous. I simply know what I like. And I like being around other people who know what they like and relish it when they can get it," he says.
*
His laugh actually shocks her. So much that her smile widens and then drops all at once. This was incredibly odd. To say that Wesley was unique was something else entirely. "But this is where you're wrong." She states. "I've never had a crab roll or a tiramisu. All I know is, that it's a cake. And that bottle of wine?" She clicks her lips. "Never had it either."
She leans back then, glancing up towards the waitress with a smile. "I've never had risotto either. Duplicate order, for him as well. Thank you."
'The bottle too, miss?' The waittress then, was obviously giving her a look. A look that said, 'You should be taking this order, not me', but it was ghosted with a smile.
"Yes, the bottle too. Thank you. You're going to get a really -huge- tip."
Cause why not, right?
*
Wesley smiles, "Well, that's a point in your favor as well. Fearlessness. Some people haven't had those things because they can't afford them. You don't know if you'll like them - perhaps you'll hate the lobster roll, for example. If you do, I suspect you'll just set it aside, rather than force yourself to eat to be polite. Or maybe you'll eat it because it's food and not eating it is wasteful. If you grew up impoverished or having to make due, most likely the latter. What you won't do is eat it just to seem sophisticated or out of any deference to my feelings on the subject," he says.
"Would you say that's true? Do you consider yourself an honest person, Claire?" he says.
*
Claire just watches him, "And with that said, you do realize that I ordered the same thing for you too, right?" She hands over the menu to the waittress, then settles within her seat. Then, there was the question, one that had her face scrunching up until she breaks out into a laughter. "Hell no I'm not an honest person. Nurses lie every day. To people and themselves. And what you say, may or may not be true. Quite frankly, I barely have time to cook myself dinner let alone get an expensive meal."
She shifts a little in her seat, mildly uncomfortable. "So, is this a date or an interview for something?"
*
Wesley shrugs, "I wouldn't have made the recommendation if I didn't think it was good food," he says. "It's a date. I'm sorry if I'm businesslike, I'm…somewhat married to my work, which is probably why I'm entering my forties still quite single. That or I'm more repugnant than I imagine," he says.
"Possibly both."
He takes a drag on his cigarette, sitting back in his chair a bit. "I try only to lie when necessary. Sometimes I'm surprised by how rarely it is."
*
"You're not that old." Claire offers up, feeling a touch relaxed again. "But that's the price we pay, isn't it? We're too busy focusing on other things we let our relationships fall by the wayside." Claire pulls a napkin from the table, allowing it to rest upon her lap, her fingers soon sliding against the back of her neck as she lets out a quiet grunt. "And you're not repugnant. If I saw your picture and thought that, I would have declined."
She grins then, "Unless you're using self depreciation to get a compliment from me.." Though, the subject of lying.. "And lying comes easily when necessary. What do you do for work, anyways?"
*
Wesley smiles, "I'm self-employed," he says, having anticipated such a natural question. "I do diversified consulting, mostly on legal and accounting matters. Negotiations, payment settlements, handling labor and payroll, distributing products, collecting revenues," he says. "Basically doing the kind of detail work other people don't much like, but which comes naturally to me."
He finishes his cigarette and leans back as the food is soon placed before them, "Do you need me to rub your neck for you? I'll admit to having a bit of a knack for it."
*
"So you're basically a glorified accountant." Claire points out. Once the food was placed in front of them, Claire wastes no time at digging in. The steak was tackled first, always favoring that above everything else. The heat is what made it delicious to her. "Mmh.. If you don't mind." She says, gesturing towards her neck, as well as her back.
"I spend at least twelve hours a day attempting to life people that are bigger than I am. Sometime's I wish I was one of those people who had that -gift-. What do they call them?" She frowns slightly. "Mutants? Supernaturals?" She shakes her head, cutting into her steak and chewing. She was hungrier than she originally thought she was, and she didn't mind tearing into her plate like a waif.
*
Wesley considers, "Glorified? No, there's no glory in anything I do, I promise you that. I leave glory to other people. I prefer money and security and challenge and I get plenty of all three," he says.
"Mutants seems to be the main term, although there are some claiming to be gods or some such nonsense running around. And, of course, just the foolish and the brave putting on masks and running around rooftops," he says. "A strange disease to suddenly catch, but you can't help but admire it. I'm sure they think they're doing good. Maybe they are," he says. "I can't imagine it ending well for them, though. The world has a tendency to chew up heroes and spit them out."
*
As Claire eats, the bottle of wine was popped open by a maitre'd now, pouring both glasses that were set in front of them. "You're forgetting my neck in favor of talking." Her fingers snap, and she gestures again. She was testing him really, but he seemed like a nice enough man.
But once the wine was done being poured, she lifts a glass in a toast. "Here here." Rather cynical, but it was the truth. "Though, the world has a tendency to chew and spit us all out. That's the part that you're leaving out."
*
Wesley slides from his chair and moves around, until he can place a hand on the back of her neck. His fingers are firm and supple - not a working man's hand, not by any stretch, but no soft and lily-livered thing either. For all that he may be just an 'accountant', he's a man through and through. He grips carefully at the muscles in her neck, rolling, "I have a client who takes a lot of massages. He often has meetings there. I've picked up a few things," he says.
"And yes, it does. We are all, as they say, food for the gods. But I won't go down easily and I suspect neither will you."
*
It was a gamble, but it paid off. As he slides around to the back of her chair, she pushes her plate forward to refrain from eating, only leaning forward so that he could begin to work the kinks and knots out of her neck. And she could appreciate this, her eyes closing as she lets out a little sigh, the glass of wine snagged to take a few sips of as she enjoys the massage, the ambience, the atmostphere..
"Hmm? No. I won't. There -are- times though when it does seem like a relaxing prospect."
*
Wesley nods, "There are a lot of different ways to relax. We can partake in those in the meantime and leave going down for the count to others," he says. "Do you like boxing, by the way? I have tickets to the bouts next week at the Garden, if you wanted to come with me, perhaps?" he says.
His fingers dig in deep, finding the hidden places on either side of her neck, moving out over her shoulders as well as he uses his leverage nicely. He really did watch closely and learn the necessary techniques.
*
"Are you kidding?" She asks, reaching up to grasp his hand to stop his massaging. "I love boxing. I'd be glad to attend." Then, she releases his hand so that he could continue, her fingers a near shake as she reaches out for her wine glass again, quickly downing it.
"Ok ok.." She says, her shoulders at a relaxed slump. "I'd lie and say that I'm not forward and I don't usually do this but.. grab the check. Box the food. I'll be waiting outside."
*
Wesley considers denying her, just to see if he could, just to keep the power in his own hands. But, honestly, he wasn't sure he could resist the temptation anyway. And he had no desire to do so.
He does indeed tip generously, handing over a bill that the waitress had never even seen in person and telling her to kee the change before he makes his way out to join Claire.
*