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"What do you mean, that girl?" 'Dez' asked, turning to 'Luke'. "Or, for that matter, calling Ava David's. Like, seriously, is this some macho thing to make up for the fact that I look better in this than you do?" A scarred hand gestured at the black fabric of the borrowed sweatshirt.
There was a light bit of teasing there, hiding among the mock outrage, apparent for anyone brave enough to look.
Ava's dark eyes ticked between the other three faces, aware that she was missing some amount of context for the current conversation. But she got the basic gist, and Luke's question was pretty easy to answer. While she wasn't thrilled to be referred to as 'this,' or as anyone's anything, Dez had already covered it. A small look of approval and thanks was sent her way.
"We don't work together, I'm somebody else." She skipped over the date question, David could confirm or deny that one on his own; and at this point, she was curious about the answer. The Nix didn't think she'd misread anything, though she had briefly entertained herself with a theory on where Coco's nickname for him came from. It seemed so unlikely she didn't bother even giving him a hard time about it.
Ever polite, even to a fault, David takes the flopped out hand for one to shake. Even if Star leaves David's hand hanging, it'll hover bravely between them. However, 'Luke's' questions, asked in rapid succession, cause the knobby-kneed scarecrow of a man to freeze. One question because David isn't quite sure of the answer himself. The other, because that is a chapter of his life that he isn't sure he is ready to share with Ava.
Especially, if this is a first-date.
Is this a first-date?
A darting look moves between Ava and 'Luke' as David tries to come up with a couple of answers. Um, David starts, continuing rather awkwardly while shuffling his feet, The woman you mention, died more than a year ago. Well, murdered, but that's a topic that probably shouldn't be brought up in the middle of a concert hall.
As for the other question, David hopes that it is considered a date. That, though, is a bigger can of worms than simply joining private spaces. Stumbling over his words, and through a growing blush, he answers, Well, um, I yes, it's a date. Is it a date? With raised brows, David looks to Ava for confirmation not wanting to speak for her in case she didn't think it is one. A lack of skill and practice in these situations rears its ugly head.
But, she's not my anything, ownership and notions of possession are a prickly things, especially for ambulatory corpses. She's Ava, a woman David's fascinated by and obviously smitten with.
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"Ummm."
Avis? Obviously kidding. Because macho. But the other two?
"I didn't, that, you know. Know. If she, if you, was, or were, his... date. Or friend. Or girlfriend. Or..." That Other Girl, apparently. The Dead One. Awkward Verbage for Five Hundred, Alex. Oh. And shake that hand. Right.
"And, yesssss, that girl. Is exactly what I meant. Thaaaaat Giiiiirl I talked about, with, errr, David." Right, Mr. Space Invaders' name is David. "...before I, uhhmmm. Asked you out. Thaaaaat Giiiiirl I wanted to ask out. Thaaaaat Giiiiirl I was waiting for, before I ever met. Thaaaaat Giiiiirl who who was my best first date." The tone is teasing but the eyes? Totally serious.
"Dez? You're going to be That Girl for me, for the rest of my life."
That's right. Let's all have a sappy Hallmark moment, and forget someone dead was just brought up. Whoah. Buzzkill.
"And. Ummmm. Ava? David? Sorry. Like, super sorry. Can I, uh, can I buy you a pretzel on a stick? As an apology. I read that, like, somewhere that's A Thing. Like an apology isn't legit unless there's a pretzel. Maybe it's Lichtenstein, I'm not sure. Or maybe that was bratwurst. Anyway. I didn't mean anything by it. Just, like, bad words. Choice. Bad word choice."
How is anyone supposed to know, when they don't even know? She skipped the question, he asked her.
"Preztel?"
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"If y'all aren't even sure if it's a date, then how about this?" Dez suggested with a shrug. "We make the evening an impromptu double date, that way there's not as much pressure on you two, and you'll get a depressingly realistic glimpse of your future, where you begin to confuse each others clothing and then eventually have to watch your significant other rush off to buy strange men pretzels."
Master of the deadpan, was she.
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David's answer to the identity of who he had discussed with Luke was sadder than she had anticipated, but the rest of it was sweet and awkward and one of her hands tensed a little in an aborted gesture of comfort, figuring it would interrupt the already uneven flow of the conversation. Hands to yourself, girl.
Her mouth pressed into a small smile that was vaguely apologetic in its own right as Luke's apology turned into a mini-tangent about pretzels. But hey, who didn't like pretzels. "Don't worry about it, we just hadn't quite gotten that far ourselves yet." Looking up at David, the smile twisted sheepishly. "It is a date. Sorry, I didn't want to corner you." It had been short notice and she didn't want to assume, and... well, it had been awhile since she'd navigated this sort of thing.
Dez's offer was tempting, and at this point she didn't even know how to go about saying no without seeming standoffish or upset. Besides, at some point she'd need to figure out how to talk about more than just books. "Company sounds nice, pretzels and future glimpses and all. Shall we?" Her head tilted a little toward the concession stand. Food was calling to her.
Lifting a hand, David tries to signal to 'Luke' that things are alright. Really, it's fine. Politeness wins out and while Luke tells Dez that she's his best first date, David steals a look at Ava. He wishes, for just a moment, that he is something more than who he is. That he could think of forever, the rest of his life, but the funny thing about being functionally immortal is that you can see the end. If not tomorrow, blowing up in a fight, then in a few years when the strain of being unable to commit to be unable to share clothes and joke about it becomes too much.
Growing old together and dying together is out of reach.
Imagining the end is not fantasy.
Ava's confirmation and her aside is met with a faint smile, I didn't want to assume... Sure. A shared glance travels over to the concession stand, letting Ava take the lead. I don't really need anything but if you want. Whatever she'd like, is a statement unsaid and David looks back to Luke, I haven't seen you at the laundromat in a while. Are you still going there?
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"Really? You think he's strange?"
Overly wide innocent eyes deadpanned the question back to Avis.
"And, cool," the mop bobbed back at Ava. "Like, I didn't want to make it weird. I mean, obviously, I made it weird. Weird-er. I mean, it's tough, right? Trying to figure out if everyone is, like, on the same page. But it's not like a book, is it? It's more like music. Like everyone has the soundtrack to their life, and sometimes, maybe, you're listening to the same song as someone else. But you don't really know, unless you both start humming together?"
Something like that. There was something earnest in the words, something that begins and grows when life has too many questions and not enough answers. And, like, answers found, long fingers wended their way towards Avis' smaller pale ones. A lean and step was taken to move the group in the direction of the concessions.
"And, mmmmm, not really?" It's hard. To explain. How do you explain that crazy awkwardness of doing laundry when you live with three girls?
All the... things... hanging... everywhere.
"Not anymore. I got a job at the Bee."
Yeah, that totally explains it. Totally.
"You?"
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"We eventually bought machines," Avis explained as they moved towards the food. "It's not hard to afford when you've got as many roommates as we do."
Enough said. It wasn't that strange for people their age to live with roommates, but it definitely was strange to live inside a closed movie theater.
"And speaking of jobs, what do you do David? And you, Ava?"
He was right, it was tough. While there was little doubt in her mind that they would have gotten around to the conversation eventually, in same ways it was nice to have it over and done with in a way that denied her the chance to waffle or debate. So, awkward as it had been, there was that. The corners of her smile widened briefly in acknowledgement of his comparison, the idea of the personal soundtrack apt.
The conversation moved on and food was almost within her reach. Half listening to why the two men didn't run into each other at the laundromat anymore, she scanned the options, though Dez's question brought her attention back to the group. "I work at a used book store. I spend a lot of time organizing things but you'd never be able to tell, it's sort of a cluttered maze. Part of the appeal, apparently. But I pretty much get to read anything I can find, when I have the time, so it has it's perks."
"It's where we met, too," she added, sending David a warm look. The pleasant surprise of an odd conversation had helped him stand out in her memory and she didn't seem to have done too poorly herself, despite a fairly lame joke.
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