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
[Very direct, then. Not that it needs to be handled in any other way with Cloud, since being subtle would just probably confuse this poor boy even more.
[The good news is, she's hardly one to be deterred by a little fumbling; quite the contrary, after the oblivious self-aggrandizing of her earlier evening companion, it's actually refreshing to just elicit straightforward, honest reactions — even ones that leave the reacter in question approximately somewhere between "deer in the headlights" and "just slapped with a fish".
But hey: at least he's yet to try to insist to her that Dallas is the capital of Texas.]
So, just to be clear — no, you don't mind, and therefore yes, you accept? The pitfalls of double negatives.
[He's trying, even if he does look like a bit like, yes, a fish has just hit him in the face. However, the good thing about being Cloud Strife is that it's awfully easy to fall back into his default state, which appears relatively the opposite of the "deer in headlights" look. He clears his throat, shifting back into this state, though there might be the smallest remnant of being caught off-guard still floating around in his expression somewhere.]
Sorry. Yeah. That's what I meant. I'll go on a date with you.
[He's flattered? Maybe a little embarrassed, but -- this is basically not how he expected the night to go, but he supposes it isn't exactly a bad thing either.]
[And that, probably, is an attempt at getting him to laugh; it certainly comes accompanied by a wink and a self-satisfied look, as she sits back in her chair and arranges her arms neatly folded across her lap.]
That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you for the rest of the game, though.
[The game-- oh, right. It's his turn. He lifts himself out of his seat, moving to take it.]
You strike me as the kind of person that doesn't usually go easy on anyone. That's fine, I wouldn't want you to, anyway.
[A small grin, but there goes the ball and... the pins are knocked over, all ten of them. A lucky strike, which isn't out of the realm of possibility; he's not so below-average that they'll always escape him.]
[Never let it be said that she doesn't give credit where credit is due, either; that shot earns him a round of light applause from the bench, and a winning smile when he ends up turning back around to see it.
Also can you believe this is only the fifth frame, they are legitimately only halfway done at this point.]
You'll have to tell me more about the kind of person I strike you as, someday.
[She says, leaning just slightly more heavily on the word "strike" as she echoes his own phrasing, because puns are wonderful things and he sure did just hit one of his own.]
Going to do your due diligence until then, are you?
[Off she goes to take her turn, herself; though she's not yet at the point of hitting strikes, she's at least managing to consistently maintain sevens, eights, and nines on her frames now.]
All right. I can't honestly say I've ever had much of a problem with knowing I'm being watched. It's sort of fun, really.
That sounds better. The whole point of a date, right?
[Not that he's been on very many of those, but. You know, even Cloud understands how they work.
Anyway, it's his turn. He's hoping to get a good frame this time, to bolster his strike from before, but it ends up being mediocre at best. Another seven, it seems, as the ball crashes into its pins.]
Oh, I like that answer. Will we be having a bowling rematch on our next date, or did you want to do something else instead?
[Speaking of being the focus of one's attention, she watches him take his turn with open interest, and as he makes his way back she can't help but tease a little.]
[Deadpan, but spoken embarrassingly quick in return.]
I don't get flustered easily. [He says, which may or may not be all that true. It's easy enough to sell, when he's as stoic as he is.] A bowling rematch would be fun, but that's not r-
[Wow he was just about to say something highly embarrassing like romantic because he falls on default notions like that because he has no experience and wow shut up Cloud-brain. h e l p]
...really a date if we're just doing the same thing. Let's find something else to do.
[So much for not getting flustered easily, Cleopatra. How's life in de Nile?
The good news is, she doesn't know exactly what he was about to say, even though it's obvious that what he was going to say isn't what ultimately came out of his mouth. But even the best detective can't read minds, and even speaking four languages can't make her automatically know how that sentence was originally going to finish.
So for a second, she just reflects. It is, of course, her nature to push boundaries; she wouldn't be herself if she didn't. The trick, however, is being able to navigate gracefully when a boundary ought to be pushed, and when it really needs to be left alone.
But no. He's quiet at times, yes, and a little awkward in places, maybe. But he's also been constantly surprising her the whole night with his flashes of quick wit and bright humor underneath the quiet, and there'll come a time when she'll need to back off and give him his space, but she's willing to bet that it isn't this moment right now.]
Well, my only condition is, nothing that involves a lot of sitting around being quiet. You're too much fun to talk to.
[She smiles, hopping up to take her turn.]
You could let me wear your letterman sweater and take me to the sock hop.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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
He blinks, looking at her for a moment.]
...Oh.
[Oh, he says. But then:]
I mean... no. I don't think I'd mind it.
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But hey: at least he's yet to try to insist to her that Dallas is the capital of Texas.]
So, just to be clear — no, you don't mind, and therefore yes, you accept? The pitfalls of double negatives.
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Sorry. Yeah. That's what I meant. I'll go on a date with you.
[He's flattered? Maybe a little embarrassed, but -- this is basically not how he expected the night to go, but he supposes it isn't exactly a bad thing either.]
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[And that, probably, is an attempt at getting him to laugh; it certainly comes accompanied by a wink and a self-satisfied look, as she sits back in her chair and arranges her arms neatly folded across her lap.]
That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you for the rest of the game, though.
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You strike me as the kind of person that doesn't usually go easy on anyone. That's fine, I wouldn't want you to, anyway.
[A small grin, but there goes the ball and... the pins are knocked over, all ten of them. A lucky strike, which isn't out of the realm of possibility; he's not so below-average that they'll always escape him.]
That's more like it.
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Also can you believe this is only the fifth frame, they are legitimately only halfway done at this point.]
You'll have to tell me more about the kind of person I strike you as, someday.
[She says, leaning just slightly more heavily on the word "strike" as she echoes his own phrasing, because puns are wonderful things and he sure did just hit one of his own.]
Fair's fair.
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When he turns around, his grin is there too. Her applause makes him a little self-conscious, but it's still pleased nonetheless.
The pun doesn't escape him as he moves to take his seat again.]
Sure. Give me until our... uh, date, and then I'll give you my full opinion of you.
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[Off she goes to take her turn, herself; though she's not yet at the point of hitting strikes, she's at least managing to consistently maintain sevens, eights, and nines on her frames now.]
All right. I can't honestly say I've ever had much of a problem with knowing I'm being watched. It's sort of fun, really.
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[He runs his fingers through his hair, absent-mindedly.]
"Being watched". Makes me sound creepy.
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[It gets a laugh out of her, however, as she makes her way back to her seat.]
How about "being a focus of your attention"?
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[Not that he's been on very many of those, but. You know, even Cloud understands how they work.
Anyway, it's his turn. He's hoping to get a good frame this time, to bolster his strike from before, but it ends up being mediocre at best. Another seven, it seems, as the ball crashes into its pins.]
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[Speaking of being the focus of one's attention, she watches him take his turn with open interest, and as he makes his way back she can't help but tease a little.]
You're not getting flustered, are you?
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[Deadpan, but spoken embarrassingly quick in return.]
I don't get flustered easily. [He says, which may or may not be all that true. It's easy enough to sell, when he's as stoic as he is.] A bowling rematch would be fun, but that's not r-
[Wow he was just about to say something highly embarrassing like romantic because he falls on default notions like that because he has no experience and wow shut up Cloud-brain. h e l p]
...really a date if we're just doing the same thing. Let's find something else to do.
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The good news is, she doesn't know exactly what he was about to say, even though it's obvious that what he was going to say isn't what ultimately came out of his mouth. But even the best detective can't read minds, and even speaking four languages can't make her automatically know how that sentence was originally going to finish.
So for a second, she just reflects. It is, of course, her nature to push boundaries; she wouldn't be herself if she didn't. The trick, however, is being able to navigate gracefully when a boundary ought to be pushed, and when it really needs to be left alone.
But no. He's quiet at times, yes, and a little awkward in places, maybe. But he's also been constantly surprising her the whole night with his flashes of quick wit and bright humor underneath the quiet, and there'll come a time when she'll need to back off and give him his space, but she's willing to bet that it isn't this moment right now.]
Well, my only condition is, nothing that involves a lot of sitting around being quiet. You're too much fun to talk to.
[She smiles, hopping up to take her turn.]
You could let me wear your letterman sweater and take me to the sock hop.
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