Lunch part 2

Posted on Sun Jul 21st, 2024 @ 21:35 by Alastair Temple & Liana Zhao

Chapter: Besieged
Location: "The City"
Timeline: 10:15am, Saturday 30th January
2495 words - 5 OF Standard Post Measure

"Only slightly longer than my estimate."

The very first thing Liana had done after stepping out of the building where her 9:00am meeting had actually started nearly bang on time, was to wrap her scarf around several times to cover her ears. Though the city, with its blocks of tall buildings, managed a little more wind protection than the open country surrounding the Institute, it was still late-January and threatening rain. The second thing she did, though technically aligned with the first, was to pull on her gloves, but this only qualified for the placing by a matter of seconds as third place went to her descent down the staircase to the reliably waiting Alastair Temple. He wasn't difficult to spot, even in a relatively busy street, and that familiarity mingled with the reminder of just how striking his fashion choice was amongst the mundane multitudes saw her arrive at his side with a smile of appreciation, both for his individuality and his punctuality. She could only hope he hadn't waited around in the weather, she had cautioned him not to feel obliged to.

"But that's done with, at least for now. Thank you," she added against for the umpteenth time. "It would have dragged on much longer had I tried to attempt it via the phone."

Liana paused then, visibly far more relaxed than the car ride had permitted. Being forced to operate inside her professional space was often a fairly grounding experience, she could hardly represent her vulnerable clients with a worried frown on her face or the tremble of uncertainty and fear in her voice. The meeting and its expectations had certainly helped her mood but Liana was also aware of the fact that there had been something so utterly reassuring of walking through the glass doors and just seeing Alastair waiting exactly where he had promised he would. The urge to compliment her thanks with a tight hug presented itself but Liana ignored it on the basis of not quite having an explanation for the gesture beyond a vague yet intense sense of gratitude. She settled, instead, for reaching out and rubbing a gloved hand against his arm.

"Ready to shop?"

"Should be yeah," Al pushed off of Omen, that he'd been leaning on while waiting. The cold didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as it tended to, her, but that was understandable considering their natures. Plus, ravens were inherent little furnaces, which is how they thrived in winter in general, and Al always considered his raven form to be his 'true' form, and this human form but the alternate one. A reach down and a click, as he opened the passenger door for Li. "I need to stop by an auto parts shop first. Ordered some performance parts for Omen. If all goes well she should be a bit faster and handle a bit tighter with them."

The smile on Liana's face broadened to a grin. Alastair's clear passion for the car was endearing. "I'm happy to follow your lead," she reassured as she slipped into the passenger seat, which by now came with its own brand of familiar comfort. As she waited for him to round the car and get in, Liana leaned forward to brush a gentle hand affectionately against Omen's dashboard, still none-the-wiser about the technical aspects of the car's uniqueness but fond nonetheless. Whilst some might have found the upkeep of such an expensive car somewhat materialistic, Liana had always appreciated any effort that went into the care and maintenance of personal assets. It didn't seem superficial to be purposeful about one's possessions, frivolity and dismissiveness would have been more of an issue if anything.

In the time he'd been at Avalon, Alastair had learned that there were two kinds of people with money. His kind, that spent and enjoyed it, that treated nice things like a hobby, like a passion, and didn't mind that it was expensive. And Claire's kind, the kind that treated everything like an investment. People like Claire would never buy a car like Omen. And never drive it as much as Al did, for fear of diminishing its value. And never poured the kind of resources in that Al was doing, with the upgrades he was planning. But a vehicle like Omen was meant to be driven, Al would argue. Not to be sitting still, gathering dust in a garage. That would be a slow, sad death. Omen's spirit was not meant to whimper. She was meant to roar.

For now though, a low rumbling growl as the pair headed off to their first destination, the auto parts store in the 'big city'. Some parts they had had in stock, some he'd had to order well in advance and had come in from Japan. But today, finally, was the day he'd come get them. A check written, the back seats and trunk laden with boxes emblazoned with eldritch incantations like 'Bilstein', 'Brembo', 'Mikuni', 'BMC Filters' and the like, the pair got back in the car.

"Anywhere you want to go, next?" Al offered, as he started the engine. "I figure we can do some more shopping, get a bite to eat somewhere. Oh! That's right, you wanted an amp, cables and maybe some filters for your electric violin, right? We could do that next if you want."

Liana wondered if there was any easy way to express that what she actually wanted, when it came to any amount of time set aside for retail therapy, was to wander and see where it took her. Such lack of forward planning was very contrary to her professional life, which was kind of the entire point, but the desire to simply get lost in possibility was made even stronger given the weight of what would be greeting them on their return to the castle. The temptation was only heightened by the quality of her current company, since applying any kind of purpose would have set up an expectation around timeframes and, whilst Liana didn't want to take up more of Alastair's day than he could afford, she found herself keen to make the most of whatever was on offer before she had to slip back into the role of responsible guardian. His suggestion, which had actually slipped her mind with everything that was going on, was met with surprised approval.

"I'd love to have your input," she agreed. "Without knowing what your intention is for this upcoming album, I did wonder if it would be a better choice than the Bergonzi."

"I think having both available would be the best option," Al offered, parking the car just on the outskirts of city center, near the shopping district. It would only be a few minutes walk to the music store, close enough to get some things and bring them back to the car before they headed for a leisurely wander, if they were so inclined. "The Bergonzi for the quiet, introspective passages. The electric violin for when there are drums and guitars happening. Maybe with a mild distortion pedal for solos, for dueling my guitar. I'm - ... still trying to find my footing, but I think with the way inspiration is going, my music will be slower than Somnium Tenebris' music. Slower, less angry, more melancholic. Sad. Atmospheric. Emotional. I'm finding that writing my confusion and fears, my sadness, into music - it helps me deal."

'And I hope that won't scare you away,' were the unspoken words in Al's thoughts.

"Certainly a healthy approach," came the response that instantly dismissed the concern. With the prospect of an informed opinion making the purchase of the equipment far more viable than all the other times she'd considered it and put it off, Liana glanced towards the back seat and then lifted her eyebrows playfully. "I hope it doesn't need to be a very big amp." Despite the obvious accuracy of the point she was making, the twinkle in the brunette's eyes conveyed it more as a tease than an actual concern. Delivery, after all, would be an option for as long as the Institute was still able to co-exist with the outside world.

"We'll make it fit," Al shrugged, offering his arm along with a confident smile. "We'll rearrange some boxes for the amp to fit. Pedals are small, will fit anywhere," he added, as off they went to the music store.

---

They did, indeed, make it fit, though Liana had eventually deferred to Alastair's Tetris-like precision rather than offer too much input. Normally, making things fit into spaces was a source of gratification, she typically spend a lot of time on the details of her personal and professional spaces, but she was worried for the leather and any errant box-staples and thought it best to leave the man to tend to his own mistress. A quip regarding the back suspension had strayed into unintentionally-suggestive territory through a series of phrasing issues and, arm slipped through her lunch date's, Liana was still laughing by the time they descended upon the restaurant she'd spied earlier. New Cresthill had very little to offer by way of decent seafood and it had been a long whilst since she'd had fresh lobster.

As they pulled apart long enough for Alastair to open the door, Liana delivered her thanks as a flirtatiously demure dip of her head, still swept up in the frivolity of the first good bout of laughter she'd had in days. It was no doubt a feat of mental trickery to view the excursion as an escape from reality but they had, so far, been refreshingly left alone, almost as if the world around them barely cared that they existed, much less had the time to stop and wonder about their genetic structure. As she swept through the door, the restaurant's ambience promised an up-market approach, quite possibly with an up-market price tag, but she will still in the process of arguing with Alastair to let her buy lunch in exchange for the taxi service. With a group ahead in the process of being seated, she took the opportunity to glance around and didn't bat an eyelash as Alastair moved close enough behind for her to lean a shoulder back against his chest to say, "Being this busy this early is a good sign." Popularity usually gave some indication of quality.

"Only if there are enough spaces for us to find some seats," Alastair agreed. Though a quick glance around allayed any fears he had there might not have been. It was busy ish, but not overly so. Still plenty of available space. Truth be told this wasn't his favored type of place to eat at - deep down he was still a street rat, without much in the way of sophistication, and what counted as 'good taste' in his case was usually still a case of a total and complete lack of subtlety. It came through in his dress style and his musical taste. Neither of which could be accused of being understated.

Still, this was where his date - there was that word again - wished to go, and so he would do his best not to be too much of an embarrassment. The accidental innuendo about a 'back side' being 'loaded' earlier had been good to alleviate the general dourness of the mood of the ride over and had done him a world of good. He silently inwardly marvelled at how someone as sophisticated, elegant and cultured as Liana could stand to not only tolerate but even seemingly enjoy the company of a fallen-upwards, uneducated street rat like him. But he felt comfortable, with her. Even in this establishment normally far too rich for his tastes. And there was something simple yet wondrous about someone who's mere presence could silence inner demons.

It helped, or at least Liana would have hoped that it did if she'd known how Alastair felt, that most of the patrons seemed to be either routine business lunches or couples spending their Saturday much the same as the pair of mutants were. Proving her judgement correct, the establishment seemed to pitch itself as a classy option for adults without dipping so far towards the elitism of exclusivity that the football jersey in the corner clashed with any unspoken dress-code. There were no children present, however, which was generally how Liana preferred to spend her lunchbreaks. She had a great deal of time for those she worked with and didn't find them objectionable in principle, but circumstances had seen her put to bed any maternal urge quite some time ago. There was something to be said for a lack of chaos and the thrum of companionable conversation without the interjection of emotionally-unregulated frustration.

When the time came for them to be seated, the waitress lead them around the corner to a second dining area and a small two-seater table tucked behind the seclusion of one of the support pillars. Having only just started the production of removing her scarf and gloves, Liana wondered if the woman had taken pity on her because their cosy little nook was close to the woodfire and seemed, at least by Liana's standards, to be the pick of the options in the area. There wasn't even a second thought given to waiting for Alastair to pull out her chair, despite it being exactly what her father would have done. Liana wasn't prone to going out for food with too many people. Folding the scarf and gloves into her lap, she reached immediately for the menu and started the agonising task of deciding if she could manage three-courses.

"I would offer to drive if you wanted a drink," she teased, the glance she shot over the top of her menu full of twinkling mischief, "but I wouldn't like to presume you'd trust the love of your life to just anyone."

It's a good thing that Liana didn't wait for Al to pull out her chair, since it took him far too long to remember that that was a thing gentlemen did. So he just kinda awkwardly stood there for a fleeting moment before he too moved on, and took off his gloves and coat, before sitting down. At her offer he inclined his head a bit, thoughts racing through his mind. 'Love of his life'? Yeah, Omen mattered to him. A great deal. But - in the end, she was 'just' a car. It. It was just a car. Honestly, he felt that his custom, Alastair Temple signature Ibanez PL1770 guitar was more important to him, nearer to his heart, than Omen was. These were thoughts he didn't vocalize though, as doing so would diminish the words he'd chosen as reply.

"I can let you drive, sure. But I'll just have an irn bru," he offered with a soft smile.