Guess I'm just a play date to you

[phdmotherfucker]

Who: Harleen, Alec, and special secret spies guests
What: A blind date from Hell (because a demon set it up, get it)
When: Feb 14th, 8 PM
Where: Antonio's Restaurant
Warnings: None

Harleen never did work up the courage to text the number the Duane Reade demon gave her, and was seriously considering calling the whole thing off or at least pulling a no-show. But then her mother knocked on her door and looked deeply disappointed at hearing her daughter would be staying in on Valentine's, then strongly hinted that she'd been hoping Harleen would be out all evening so the parents could have a "very romantic, private sort of night."

So obviously Harleen could not be anywhere in a five mile radius of home with that cursed knowledge.

She put on a nice dress and jacket, nothing too flashy or that could lead to ... certain expectations, and headed out to meet her doom. Dinner. Her dinner date.

She arrived too early, as she usually did, and was seated at the table first. She ordered a glass of wine and promised herself that everything was going to be just fine. No date could be as bad as the one in her other self's memories.

Comments

[scotch_egg]

"It's not you. You're fine. We've nothing in common but that's not your fault. That's just the way things are. Just think of me as an irascible old man who doesn't like anything but can't say no to some ginger bastard giving e a puppy eyed look."

Pasta desauced, he looks at it critically, then changes his mind and sets it back on the plate.

"You might as well have a strawberry if you want before the chocolate melts."

[phdmotherfucker]

"We have at least two things in common, and you're not some doddering grandpa on leave from the home." Irascible, yes, she couldn't argue with that one.

She took a strawberry from the plate and closed her lips around it as she watched him contemplatively. The visual effect was entirely unintentional.

"Not a fan of strawberries, or is it the chocolate? Or do you just object to any kind of ingredients touching each other?"

[scotch_egg]

"Hmph. Close enough." He wasn't that old yet, but he felt it. He glanced up at just the wrong moment and then looked away, leaning back, arms folded, ears red. he sniffed, knowing strawberries and chocolate are off the menu.

"I don't like food touching. I don't get why everyone is so into smashing food together and seeing if it tastes good. It doesn't. It's just confusing. The only things that belong together are butter on bread. Everything else is just trying too hard." He wondered if that counted as desert.

[phdmotherfucker]

She smirked, and bit into the strawberry. The juice dribbled down her chin and she wiped it up inelegantly.

"Next time we can go to the Golden Corral and you can use that senior citizen discount on all the plain white rice you can eat."

[scotch_egg]

It was inelegant, it was also mildly distracting, but he was good at holding himself back from that sort of thing when there was not even a glimmer of a chance-- and by and large because a small part of him didn't want to give Anthony the satisfaction. Also she'd never be happy with him. That was a trend.

He snorted.

"I've seen their kitchens once. Class field trip. You do not want to eat there. In fact I'd wear a Hazmat suit just to go in the parking lot."

[phdmotherfucker]

She laughed a little too loudly at that.

"That has to be the worst field trip I can think of. What lesson even was that? Biohazards?"

[scotch_egg]

"Sort of like: Career Day. See how a kitchen runs, see how a garbageman works and so on. Trying to herd seventeen eighth graders and keeping them or the parents from tasting anything was a time and a half." It didn't help that one of the wine mothers had lived up to her name and had spent the entire trip calling him William Wallace and asking him about his 'Freedom'.

"I'll never forget it, even if I want to."

[phdmotherfucker]

Her brows shot up and she pressed her lips together to try and suppress a grin. "Oh, you teach middle school. That explains so much."

Or really, everything. No wonder he wallowed in misery, if his days were spent dealing with tweens. That would destroy the soul of any man.

[scotch_egg]

"Taught. Was let go." Quit sort of but mostly-- well it was for the best. "What do you do? What kind of medicine?"

[phdmotherfucker]

Now there was a mystery. Maybe he was fired for thinking Golden Corral was a good field trip. She'd put a pin in that for later, if she ever saw him again.

"Psychiatric research. I'm studying trauma responses."

[scotch_egg]

"You'll have plenty of research around here. Just wait until the next event happens." Whatever that is. There was always something new to be traumatized by aside from just living in New York. "What lead you to that?"

[phdmotherfucker]

"I wanted to know what made people turn to crime, and why some people could get away from it and others never did. Once you start examining MOs, a lot of them claim trauma."

She glanced down and ran her fingers along the stem of the glass. Getting into such personal conversation with a man who had made it clear he did not enjoy company seemed a waste of effort, but there was no harm in it either.

"Our actual work is with abuse survivors and veterans, but most of the donations come from people hoping we find some data about criminal motives that would make a good headline." She shrugged a little. "I guess all the glamour is in murder."

[scotch_egg]

He was surprised that they had that in common. Sort of. As she spoke the words sparked in the back of his mind like flint on stone and memories...of a sort...trickled into the back of his brain. It wasn't anything physical, nothing named, more muscle memory, thoughts, interests he didn't realize he had.

"People commit crime for as many reasons as people do anything," he said, knowing it was true even as he said it. "Because of poverty, because of anger, lust, greed, just for the hell of it. Trauma too. I think it's good work. Interesting work." Helpful too, to sort out the ones that needed help from the ones that bullshitted their way through.

"Murder is always going to get in the papers. Not much care is given to those that are left behind. So that's good too. Talking to the people that suffer." He wanted to hear more. He wanted to do more. To work in that sphere. Do-- find justice. To pursue it. To push back against all the evil in the world.

Only... he'd done a shit job of it before. And now-- he was too old to start something like that and pretty much a dead man walking anyway. His time had passed him by. Which was probably for the best.

"I hope you do great work." He saluted her with the wine glass and finished the rest of it, but didn't indulge in another. He was fairly sure that if he wasn't being watched then somehow Anthony would know of it and he'd never hear the end of it.

[phdmotherfucker]

"I will. I do."

If she wasn't already a little flushed from half a bottle of wine she might have blushed at the encouragement, faint as it was. People made a lot of assumptions about women that looked like her, usually that she wasn't up to the task or, less kindly, that she would be better suited pursuing a more decorative sort of position in life.

"I'm actually going to be leading a new study soon. Maybe. Fingers crossed."

[scotch_egg]

"Aye? What kind?" He wasn't as interested in the academic underpinnings of it despite his own teaching background, but he would listen. The important thing was she was enjoying herself and a certain cousin was less likely to ride his ass about it.

[phdmotherfucker]

"It's, um. Well, the donors want criminal research, so I figured..." She bounced her leg under the table, feeling self conscious talking about her pet project before it even got off the ground. She didn't want to jinx it. "It's going to be a long term study, a lot of prisoner interviews. The data could be used to support institutional reforms. I hope."

[scotch_egg]

"Brilliant. That's good work. Work with meaning." He can't do anything to help it along though a part of him burns to- to do, not what she does, but actually provide some value.

"Let's just hope this horseshit doesn't slow you down. This...Different horseshit I mean."

[phdmotherfucker]

She grinned at the approval of her work. It felt stupid, but she couldn't help it. Not many people were interested in the research.

"Nothing has ever slowed me down. Well, anyway, what about you? What are you doing now that you don't teach?"

[scotch_egg]

"Not a goddamned thing worth talking about." He pours himself a third dangerous glass and downs it relatively quickly. He should really stop but just once wouldn't hurt.

"Mostly trying to hang on while everything keeps changing."

[phdmotherfucker]

She reached for another strawberry instead of signalling the waiter for another bottle of wine. The wine had done a good job so far, but they were at a point where it was going to turn from a social lubricant into regret juice.

"Do you want to talk about that? How things have changed?"

[scotch_egg]

"Well, my cousin's a demon from hell. I found out that in another life...or something...I'm a divorcee who is the worst cop in Britain and I'm probably going to die before 2022. So, it's just been a lot to keep up with. But at the end of the day there's nothing of value lost."

He pointed an unsteady finger at her. "And don't try to feed my ego because I won't believe a bloody word of it."

[phdmotherfucker]

Well that was.

A lot.

"Neat." She'd tried to come up with a decent response by the time she swallowed the strawberry, but there wasn't really anything to say to that. "I just got electrocuted."

[scotch_egg]

"That happens. Glad you're still around." He refuses a strawberry but eats a bit of pasta. "Was it here or there?"

[phdmotherfucker]

At least he was finally engaging with the dinner part of a dinner date.

"There. Four hundred and fifty volts to the noggin."

The waiter stopped by to check on them and she ordered a coffee.

"I think I was in love with the guy who strapped me down and zapped me, so that's fun."

[scotch_egg]

"That's hard. I hope he paid for it." He made a face. "But that's exactly why I don't do this...horseshit." He waved vaguely at the dinner table. "If you don't care for anyone no one can hurt you."