[But oh, here they go again, and as the traffic picks up again she notes that she didn't quite have the chance to give him an answer, so she shifts to lean a little more heavily against the back of his shoulder, which likewise puts her that much closer to his concealed ear.]
Head east, into Tisse. Have you ever been to the Stardust?
[-is his response, clipped by the sound of the engine flaring to life as he accelerates down the road. He heads east as directed, for an extended minute or two, managing to speak his reply whenever they slow down or come to a complete stop at traffic lights.]
There's still a lot of this city that I haven't seen yet, since I'm still new. And I pretty much stick to my daily routine, so...
[Basically... he doesn't get out and socialize very much.]
That's going to change these days though. What with everything going on in Recolle.
Well, then. Let me show you the world — shining, shimmering, splendid.
[Amused, she continues watching over his shoulder, interjecting with idle directions here and there to keep them on the right path toward the combination skating rink and bowling alley in Tisse.]
Are you planning to get involved with trying to solve the mysteries surrounding this place?
[He scoffs at that first bit, probably barely audible through his helmet. But no reply to it for now, only his focus on getting them to the right place by following her directions.]
Do I have much of a choice? It's not like any of these "changes" are subtle, and even if I wanted to ignore them I couldn't.
[And there is some strange part of him that wants to make "right" what he views as "wrong". Not even focusing on the morality of it all, he feels this inclination -- to bring back horses, to make his eyes blue again. That sure would be nice.
Eventually they make it to their location, and he parks his motorcycle near the front entrance. It's always convenient when there's a spot just for motorbikes and the like.]
This it? [He's finally taking off his helmet, exhaling as he does. His normally spiky style is pressed flat against his head, in its usual show of helmet hair. Cloud doesn't seem to care.]
[What a pair they must make, to the eyes of the average passerby; she's wildly overdressed and he's got helmet hair. She slides off the back of the bike with relative ease, or at least she makes it look that way, though in practice it's probably deceptively challenging to balance on the worn, uneven concrete of the parking lot.]
If it'd been the daylight hours, I would've pointed you toward the zoo, but the Stardust isn't bad as a close second. There are two rinks — one ice, one hardwood — and a bowling alley. Plus the usual arcade, snacks, flashing lights, whale mascots.
[She shrugs a little, as much indicating the building by the lift of her shoulders as offering a noncommittal bit of nonverbal punctuation.]
My treat. There are plenty of ways of killing time inside, if that's what we're after.
Whale mascots. [He repeats, focusing of course on the most ridiculous notion of them all. But it isn't off-putting, and in fact he sees no reason why they wouldn't enjoy themselves a little with what this place had to offer.] How can I say no to whale mascots.
[Off of his bike now, he makes sure to lock it up before waiting for her. He runs a hand through his hair, which doesn't help it look much better. He still has a grease smudge across his cheekbone from his shift at work today.]
I'll bowl with you. I can skate, too, but I might fall on my face. [Then again, the arcade sounds like fun as well.]
I have it on good authority that the whale mascot would swoop in and catch you, if you were to fall. Or I would.
[Her lips split into an insatiable grin, however, at the sight of his face, and she taps at her own cheek in indication the next time he glances her way.]
Speaking of your face — you were hard at work, I see.
[He scoffs, though it isn't without humor. He heads on towards the entrance, and holds the door open for her as they head in.]
That's nice of you. But I'll learn my lesson more easily if you just let me fall on my ass.
[At the indication at his cheek, though, he just gives an "oh" and wipes away at it with the back of his hand. Most of it disappears, though the smear isn't completely gone.]
Yeah. If that's the worst of it, then count that as a success. You should see me on days where we're really busy.
Is that an invitation? Next time I'll pick you up, then. Fair's fair.
[She breezes on in through the door that he holds for her, hands in the pockets of her coat, and pivots briefly to wait for him to fall into step next to her before starting to head for the bowling alley section of the complex.
The lanes, when they get there, prove to be pleasantly busy without being packed, and it's easy enough to secure a lane, which she takes care of efficiently. A bored-looking attendant points them toward their destination before asking for shoe sizes to supply them with pairs of bowling shoes, and then indicates the rack of house balls available for recreational bowlers to make use of during their visit.]
[That's not what he expected, but he just grins and laughs wryly again. His smile is something some might call unaffected at best, yet it remains friendly. Cloud may be standoffish, but it's never by choice; he will go out and bowl with what is basically a stranger he's only spoken to over text, as is proof of that right now. One merely needs to drag him out to do so, such as misfiring at him a call for a rescue.]
If you pick me up in the Stingray then I'm not going to complain.
[It doesn't take long for him to find a lane. He'll sit down first, kicking off his black, dirtied riding shoes, to be replaced a bit comically by something as mundane as bowling footwear. Then he moves on over to the bowling balls, choosing a more weightier one to be his companion for this game.]
[What's equally comical is the fact that, once she shucks off her own pumps, she ends up dropping a fair few inches in height as a result; though she's still tall for a woman without her shoes, her heels are as constant an aspect of her wardrobe as her habit of wearing red is, which adds the illusion of an extra few inches of height that the bowling shoes simply don't.
(They're also, quite frankly, hideous, and the way that they clash only gets worse when she sheds her coat and ends up standing around in a cocktail dress and her two-tone bowling flats, but from the way she's grinning, it's apparent that the juxtaposition is delighting her.)
Perhaps unsurprisingly, when she goes to find a ball, she picks a red one. Some things never change.]
I'm good enough to enjoy myself, but I'm not hiding a closetful of trophies anywhere, either. Why, what about you? Don't tell me you're secretly a ringer.
[This is definitely an odd sight. Not that Cloud will... complain seeing Carmen waltzing around in a cocktail dress, but honestly, he should be laughing at the absurdity of it all. What an odd pair they make, and he actually rubs at the back of his neck, wondering just how this night ended up the way it did.
While she's grinning, Cloud is doing the same, only reflected back in a milder manner.]
Nope. Not at all. I can throw it straight, but that's about it. Probably should work on my technique, but it's not like I find myself in a bowling alley all that often.
[So very rarely.
When they've all gotten everything settled, it's easy enough for him to get things set up on the little console. He types in their names (CARMEN on one line, and CLOD on the other because the "U" hilariously does not work on the dumb plastic keyboard) and their game begins officially. He goes second, so he waits his turn, sitting patiently in the meanwhile.]
Good, then we'll have an exciting game. It wouldn't be any fun if there weren't at least some challenge to the competition.
[Her first shot is admittedly inelegant, as much because she's not used to the weight and balance of the ball as from anything to do with her level of skill, but even with the way it veers off course and misses the front pin, she still manages to take a few of them on the edge out. Her second is a little better, this time overcorrected in the opposite direction, such that in the end she's managed to take out about four or five of the total ten pins in the frame.
She seems satisfied, though, as she comes back to the console to relinquish her turn, and it's satisfaction that quickly turns into a stifled giggle when she sees the way the players are identified on the board.]
You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure you're the epitome of talent and grace.
So you noticed that, huh? [Cloud, how could she not notice it? He doesn't appear all that embarrassed, though, only slightly amused; for twenty-four years, he's lived with the name Cloud, and all manner of ways people could potentially make fun of it. It's not the first time the "u" has been neglected by way of a joke, though this time it was by his own doing and definitely unintentional.] Thought you'd spare me my pride and not say anything, but... well, the "u" key was broken. I guess I should've put a "w" in there instead.
[Though would "Clowd" have been any less hilarious?
At any rate, it's his turn, and so Cloud stands and moves to retrieve his bowling ball, waiting for the pins to ready. He then moves forward and tosses the ball down the lane -- it isn't bad, and the form is there for an amateur, but it's like he said; the bowling ball rolls in a straight line, and hits exactly the middle of the pins.
This is problematic, because while he gets a good five pins down, the remaining are split on the left and right. He frowns a little.]
Hm.
[His second go, he aims for the right side. He knocks over two of the pins, leaving him with an okay score of 7.]
Far be it from me to affront your pride. I'm just observant — and the type to remark on the things I observe.
[Which ends up proving itself true as she watches him take his turn, silently taking stock of his form and the trajectory of his ball as it sails toward the pins. To her credit, it stays at observation; in another life, she might've found it irresistible to offer her two cents of commentary, but in this one she has enough tact and social awareness to avoid that habit of dictating the world around her every chance she gets.
What she offers instead, though, is casual praise, easy and genuine.]
Better than I did. For the moment, at least; we'll have to see if I rally and make a comeback.
[And she smiles, getting up and brushing imaginary lint off of her dress before heading to retrieve her ball.]
Well, I'm glad to hear that you're not the type to take a little teasing too cirrusly.
[So she remarks over her shoulder, just before taking her windup and pitching her first ball down the lane. This one is better still, veering only slightly to the left of the center this time, and takes out about half of the pins accordingly. Her second throw again goes a little awry, but still better than before, and she comes out of the frame with a respectable 8.]
You should save that line and use it on dates. "What a clod I'd be, without U" — who wouldn't be swayed?
Somehow I don't think anyone is going to ever fall for that one-liner.
[But he gets up to have his turn at the lane. He starts off with another straight toss down the middle, and the next one barely snags one, also rolling down the center. It's a frame of six, less than his previous turn.]
You'd be surprised by the things people will fall for, if they're said by the right person.
[She watches him go, politely holding back her commentary until he's finished with his frame, and only really picking up the thread of the conversation again once she's the one moving toward the lane.]
Somehow I suspect you'd be the right person for a lot of people, just from what I've seen of you tonight.
[And off go her bowls, one that results in a seven-ten split, and another that sails right through them like goalposts, leaving her with another 8 to show for it.]
[He's honestly not sure what to think of that comment. It's flattering, but he's not exactly certain how true it might lend itself to be; he's well aware of his own faults, which mainly circle around being aloof and mostly anti-social, and definitely a little awkward.]
I'm going to assume you mean the whole "bad boy with a motorcycle" image? That might work initially but afterwards? Not so much.
[When they realize just how much of an actual cinnamon roll he is......
In any case, it's his turn. He waits for the pins to reset before he goes, and in the end, he only has one straggler of a pin left standing, with a frame of 9.]
[She's taken a seat again while he goes and takes his turn, and this time she's not in any particular hurry to get up and resume position at the lane; she's got her knees together and her arms folded across them, leaving her leaning and half-slouched instead of upright and neatly poised. In practice, it has the effect of toning down some of the force of her personality, leaving her a little less like she's trying to command attention and more just accepting of it if and when it might come.]
That's not what I meant. I'm not saying the "bad boy with a motorcycle" act isn't appealing, but I was thinking more along the lines of the way that you're kind, and good-natured enough that you're not afraid to poke fun at yourself when the situation warrants it; you believe in things and want to see good in the world and try to spread it around where you can; you're fun to talk to, you're certainly not hard on the eyes, and you're genuine in the things you say and the way you think.
[She shrugs a little, a slight lift of her shoulders without letting her forearms leave her knees.]
I started this night out in the company of a man kept going out of his way to try to impress me. As it turns out, you've made much more of an impression on me, just by being yourself.
[Well, Cloud isn't quite sure how to reply to any of that. It's flattery that's appreciated, more sincere than probably what can truly be called flattery, but it's also a little embarrassing. He shuffles into a seat across from her, clearing his throat, eyes wandering to something Very Interesting on the ground.]
I... [He's not eloquent enough to think of a clever response in return. He hasn't enough practice at it, and his personality simply doesn't lend to it. Thus it's a relatively simplistic response that she gets, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.]
...Thanks. Though it's a little embarrassing to hear all of that at once. [He glances at her.] I'm just glad you're having fun, though.
I am. And I meant it when I said we should do this again sometime.
[In consideration of his moment of awkward, though, she takes that as her cue to neatly get up and head to the lane for her turn — which, all things considered, might have been part of her overall plan, anyway.
She bowls about as well as she has been, maintaining her average of hitting seven to nine pins on a turn, but takes her time between shots and in making her way back over to the console, just to leave him a little extra time to recover.]
He's silent as he watches, not that surprised that she's managed to keep her turns consistent. He's not good at this, what does he say?? How does he interpret that??
It's his turn now, but when Carmen comes back to sit, he just blurts out.]
Are you asking me out on a date?
i just spent a legitimately stupid portion of my life making this
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[But oh, here they go again, and as the traffic picks up again she notes that she didn't quite have the chance to give him an answer, so she shifts to lean a little more heavily against the back of his shoulder, which likewise puts her that much closer to his concealed ear.]
Head east, into Tisse. Have you ever been to the Stardust?
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[-is his response, clipped by the sound of the engine flaring to life as he accelerates down the road. He heads east as directed, for an extended minute or two, managing to speak his reply whenever they slow down or come to a complete stop at traffic lights.]
There's still a lot of this city that I haven't seen yet, since I'm still new. And I pretty much stick to my daily routine, so...
[Basically... he doesn't get out and socialize very much.]
That's going to change these days though. What with everything going on in Recolle.
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[Amused, she continues watching over his shoulder, interjecting with idle directions here and there to keep them on the right path toward the combination skating rink and bowling alley in Tisse.]
Are you planning to get involved with trying to solve the mysteries surrounding this place?
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Do I have much of a choice? It's not like any of these "changes" are subtle, and even if I wanted to ignore them I couldn't.
[And there is some strange part of him that wants to make "right" what he views as "wrong". Not even focusing on the morality of it all, he feels this inclination -- to bring back horses, to make his eyes blue again. That sure would be nice.
Eventually they make it to their location, and he parks his motorcycle near the front entrance. It's always convenient when there's a spot just for motorbikes and the like.]
This it? [He's finally taking off his helmet, exhaling as he does. His normally spiky style is pressed flat against his head, in its usual show of helmet hair. Cloud doesn't seem to care.]
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[What a pair they must make, to the eyes of the average passerby; she's wildly overdressed and he's got helmet hair. She slides off the back of the bike with relative ease, or at least she makes it look that way, though in practice it's probably deceptively challenging to balance on the worn, uneven concrete of the parking lot.]
If it'd been the daylight hours, I would've pointed you toward the zoo, but the Stardust isn't bad as a close second. There are two rinks — one ice, one hardwood — and a bowling alley. Plus the usual arcade, snacks, flashing lights, whale mascots.
[She shrugs a little, as much indicating the building by the lift of her shoulders as offering a noncommittal bit of nonverbal punctuation.]
My treat. There are plenty of ways of killing time inside, if that's what we're after.
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[Off of his bike now, he makes sure to lock it up before waiting for her. He runs a hand through his hair, which doesn't help it look much better. He still has a grease smudge across his cheekbone from his shift at work today.]
I'll bowl with you. I can skate, too, but I might fall on my face. [Then again, the arcade sounds like fun as well.]
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[Her lips split into an insatiable grin, however, at the sight of his face, and she taps at her own cheek in indication the next time he glances her way.]
Speaking of your face — you were hard at work, I see.
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That's nice of you. But I'll learn my lesson more easily if you just let me fall on my ass.
[At the indication at his cheek, though, he just gives an "oh" and wipes away at it with the back of his hand. Most of it disappears, though the smear isn't completely gone.]
Yeah. If that's the worst of it, then count that as a success. You should see me on days where we're really busy.
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[She breezes on in through the door that he holds for her, hands in the pockets of her coat, and pivots briefly to wait for him to fall into step next to her before starting to head for the bowling alley section of the complex.
The lanes, when they get there, prove to be pleasantly busy without being packed, and it's easy enough to secure a lane, which she takes care of efficiently. A bored-looking attendant points them toward their destination before asking for shoe sizes to supply them with pairs of bowling shoes, and then indicates the rack of house balls available for recreational bowlers to make use of during their visit.]
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If you pick me up in the Stingray then I'm not going to complain.
[It doesn't take long for him to find a lane. He'll sit down first, kicking off his black, dirtied riding shoes, to be replaced a bit comically by something as mundane as bowling footwear. Then he moves on over to the bowling balls, choosing a more weightier one to be his companion for this game.]
So... are you good at this?
[Bowling, he means.]
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(They're also, quite frankly, hideous, and the way that they clash only gets worse when she sheds her coat and ends up standing around in a cocktail dress and her two-tone bowling flats, but from the way she's grinning, it's apparent that the juxtaposition is delighting her.)
Perhaps unsurprisingly, when she goes to find a ball, she picks a red one. Some things never change.]
I'm good enough to enjoy myself, but I'm not hiding a closetful of trophies anywhere, either. Why, what about you? Don't tell me you're secretly a ringer.
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While she's grinning, Cloud is doing the same, only reflected back in a milder manner.]
Nope. Not at all. I can throw it straight, but that's about it. Probably should work on my technique, but it's not like I find myself in a bowling alley all that often.
[So very rarely.
When they've all gotten everything settled, it's easy enough for him to get things set up on the little console. He types in their names (CARMEN on one line, and CLOD on the other because the "U" hilariously does not work on the dumb plastic keyboard) and their game begins officially. He goes second, so he waits his turn, sitting patiently in the meanwhile.]
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[Her first shot is admittedly inelegant, as much because she's not used to the weight and balance of the ball as from anything to do with her level of skill, but even with the way it veers off course and misses the front pin, she still manages to take a few of them on the edge out. Her second is a little better, this time overcorrected in the opposite direction, such that in the end she's managed to take out about four or five of the total ten pins in the frame.
She seems satisfied, though, as she comes back to the console to relinquish her turn, and it's satisfaction that quickly turns into a stifled giggle when she sees the way the players are identified on the board.]
You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure you're the epitome of talent and grace.
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[Though would "Clowd" have been any less hilarious?
At any rate, it's his turn, and so Cloud stands and moves to retrieve his bowling ball, waiting for the pins to ready. He then moves forward and tosses the ball down the lane -- it isn't bad, and the form is there for an amateur, but it's like he said; the bowling ball rolls in a straight line, and hits exactly the middle of the pins.
This is problematic, because while he gets a good five pins down, the remaining are split on the left and right. He frowns a little.]
Hm.
[His second go, he aims for the right side. He knocks over two of the pins, leaving him with an okay score of 7.]
Not bad, I guess.
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[Which ends up proving itself true as she watches him take his turn, silently taking stock of his form and the trajectory of his ball as it sails toward the pins. To her credit, it stays at observation; in another life, she might've found it irresistible to offer her two cents of commentary, but in this one she has enough tact and social awareness to avoid that habit of dictating the world around her every chance she gets.
What she offers instead, though, is casual praise, easy and genuine.]
Better than I did. For the moment, at least; we'll have to see if I rally and make a comeback.
[And she smiles, getting up and brushing imaginary lint off of her dress before heading to retrieve her ball.]
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[And that much is true, or at least easily assumed, with how stoic in general Cloud appears to be.
He watches as she gets up and prepares to start her turn.]
As long as you don't start calling me "Clod" for real.
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[So she remarks over her shoulder, just before taking her windup and pitching her first ball down the lane. This one is better still, veering only slightly to the left of the center this time, and takes out about half of the pins accordingly. Her second throw again goes a little awry, but still better than before, and she comes out of the frame with a respectable 8.]
You should save that line and use it on dates. "What a clod I'd be, without U" — who wouldn't be swayed?
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Somehow I don't think anyone is going to ever fall for that one-liner.
[But he gets up to have his turn at the lane. He starts off with another straight toss down the middle, and the next one barely snags one, also rolling down the center. It's a frame of six, less than his previous turn.]
Or my bowling skills, apparently.
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[She watches him go, politely holding back her commentary until he's finished with his frame, and only really picking up the thread of the conversation again once she's the one moving toward the lane.]
Somehow I suspect you'd be the right person for a lot of people, just from what I've seen of you tonight.
[And off go her bowls, one that results in a seven-ten split, and another that sails right through them like goalposts, leaving her with another 8 to show for it.]
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I'm going to assume you mean the whole "bad boy with a motorcycle" image? That might work initially but afterwards? Not so much.
[When they realize just how much of an actual cinnamon roll he is......
In any case, it's his turn. He waits for the pins to reset before he goes, and in the end, he only has one straggler of a pin left standing, with a frame of 9.]
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That's not what I meant. I'm not saying the "bad boy with a motorcycle" act isn't appealing, but I was thinking more along the lines of the way that you're kind, and good-natured enough that you're not afraid to poke fun at yourself when the situation warrants it; you believe in things and want to see good in the world and try to spread it around where you can; you're fun to talk to, you're certainly not hard on the eyes, and you're genuine in the things you say and the way you think.
[She shrugs a little, a slight lift of her shoulders without letting her forearms leave her knees.]
I started this night out in the company of a man kept going out of his way to try to impress me. As it turns out, you've made much more of an impression on me, just by being yourself.
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I... [He's not eloquent enough to think of a clever response in return. He hasn't enough practice at it, and his personality simply doesn't lend to it. Thus it's a relatively simplistic response that she gets, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.]
...Thanks. Though it's a little embarrassing to hear all of that at once. [He glances at her.] I'm just glad you're having fun, though.
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[In consideration of his moment of awkward, though, she takes that as her cue to neatly get up and head to the lane for her turn — which, all things considered, might have been part of her overall plan, anyway.
She bowls about as well as she has been, maintaining her average of hitting seven to nine pins on a turn, but takes her time between shots and in making her way back over to the console, just to leave him a little extra time to recover.]
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He's silent as he watches, not that surprised that she's managed to keep her turns consistent. He's not good at this, what does he say?? How does he interpret that??
It's his turn now, but when Carmen comes back to sit, he just blurts out.]
Are you asking me out on a date?
i just spent a legitimately stupid portion of my life making this
Yes.
[Never let it be said that she is one to beat around the bush.]
It doesn't have to be one, if you'd rather not. But I'm not opposed to calling it one, either.
THIS WAS AMAZING i laughed so hard and i'm saving it to use forever
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