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 Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 9:49 pm
It had happened to Pascal before, during his time in highschool. He had gotten a number from a girl and it had turned out to be only six digits. He'd noted it immediately but he simply couldn't believe it. It became a caution tale, a memory he recalled when he'd dug into his pocket and found a business card with Zia's phone number on it. In retrospect, he hadn't even asked her for her number so what were the odds of her simply giving him a fake number for the sheer gollies of it? Quite low, Pascal speculated. Zia probably had better figures for that speculation, and damn that figure of hers.
It definitely wasn't long before Pascal found himself sliding the card between his fingertips, counting the hours before he thought it was appropriate to call some girl he'd met at the bus stop. How obvious was it that she wanted him to call her? Did she just accidentally allow her business card to fall into his pocket? On that topic, Pascal couldn't even recall her doing so. Smiling, Pascal dropped the business card on the table top thinking about what a slick and sly young lady she was.
"That's it," he said to himself, leaning forward to grab his cellphone off the table. He stared at it for a minute, guessing his choices carefully. It took him awhile but finally he picked the business card back up and then slowly dialed it. It was like a slow death listening to the ringback tone, waiting and wondering if Zia would answer. He really, really didn't want to get pushed onto voicemail and then find himself forcibly hanging up instead of leaving a message. It was dreadful but then finally there was the sound of the phone being picked up.
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Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 11:15 pm
Normally, Zia would've been feeling fairly happy go lucky with all the sudden positive things that have been going on lately. Her hair was nice, she had been more alert at work, random cute boy giving her a confidence boost at the bus stop...
She was starting to feel like things were like the used to be. Too like they used to be. "You're retired," She snapped over the phone at her father. "You have no business going to-- Well I have to for work. Yes. You can't-- No!" Robert Connolly was insisting on making what was already going to be an awkward gala ten times worse by attending with his ridiculously young fiance. The usual crowd was expected to be there, but considering the awkward terms they were on, Zia was hoping they could come to an agreement and he wouldn't ruin her work, or at least compromise.
But Robert Connolly didn't like being told what to do, especially by his daughter who he treated more like a hollow porcelain doll in the first place. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he started off on a another rant, about how she needed to come home and marry some other guy he'd picked out she couldn't recall meeting and give up this silly work thing and living like a poor person with some roommate, which was scandalous enough, considering he was a boy, but was undoubtedly common on top of it all. As it went on, Zia's eyebrows had lowered into a cartoonish frown and she was rendered silent by the never ending barrage of insults disguised as parental concern.
A ding alerted her to another call coming in, and she almost didn't pick it up, but then she realized she could put her dad on hold and he probably wouldn't notice.
Still, when she picked up the call, she answered with a distressed, "Who is this?"
The answer was one she definitely wasn't expecting. Bus stop boy! He could solve one problem. Actually, what she had in mind was less solving a problem rather than being more ornery. "Hi!" She got a lot more chipper all of the sudden. "I remember you. Are you free? For like, the rest of today and tonight?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 11:37 pm
The random cute guy was surprised to say the least. Zia had picked up the phone and it sounded like she was about an inch from killing someone but then she had suddenly... asked him out. He had no idea what she wanted to do with him for the rest of the day and night, and it could have very well been follow through with her initial plan of murdering someone but when a hot lady asks you out there is only one thing to say.
"Yes, I am free," he agreed.
Was he really free though? Well, Pascal had to think about that for a moment. He could very well have something he had to do but it wasn't likely when he had graduated from high school and was now working to his associates through undergrad, he had no parents who could viably remember him and it wasn't like his robots were going to just walk away after being neglected for a day. It would be rather amazing if they could though, scientifically amazing and probably sci-fi horrifying. Either way, game on!
"I am certainly pleased you remember me but perhaps I should inquire further on your intentions? What's going on?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 11:51 pm
"It's nothing too bad, I promise," Zia laughed. "Well maybe. It's a party. Sort of. The Destiny City Chamber Opera's Annual Fall Gala? It's tonight. There won't actually be any opera. Just snooty rich people, and probably an open bar." Actually, he looked too young to drink, but she also *looked* too young too, even though she had other contributing factors. Either way, she was hoping that addendum might make the night sound much more tolerable since it sounded as boring as it was.
"Either way, I need a date. Do you have a tux? You'll need a tux. And not a blue one with ruffles from the 80s," She tried to joke, but there was an underlying dead seriousness.
"We can go shopping if you don't have one!"
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 4:39 pm
Perhaps murder would have been a better choice. It was too late now though and a night with Zia couldn't be soured too horribly by a bunch of snooty rich people, especially not when there was an open bar. Not old enough? Pascal didn't seem to care when he considered Pascal Lalande was just a facade and didn't really exist. No one seemed to question that, it couldn't be that hard to gain access to the open bar.
Unfortunately, Pascal didn't haves tux or really much of anything to claim to his own. Cameron Reid had plenty of things, a history and a life but Pascal Lalande had almost nothing in comparison. He ha a small bachelor apartment filled with mechanics but there wasn't much else to it.
"I don't," he confirmed. If anyone asked then he would just have to say he didn't have time to pack much before he was shipped off or kicked out. He'd have to think of something but for now just confirming that he didn't have one would suffice since she had brought it up.
"I'll have to accept your offer to assist me in finding one, now won't I?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 5:16 pm
Zia tried to resist being giddy, because shopping was fun. Especially when you got to dress other people up like dolls. "Okay. Tell me where and I'll come pick you up." There was no way Pascal could possibly know the danger behind those words 'I'll come pick you up'. But there they were, and they were out.
As soon as she had his answer and finished up their phone conversation, she clicked back to the other line to see if her dad was still going on. He wasn't. Apparently he'd figured out she wasn't listening and hung up. But that was okay, she had a boy to pick up and then dress up.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:05 pm
After telling Zia where she could find him and hung up the phone, the eighteen year old promptly fell back onto his bed, taking a deep breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He took some time to think about what had just happened, almost confused by the idea that such a beautiful woman had asked him out. A scientist by nature, Pascal wanted to calculate everything out in his head before it even happened. He knew it might not go the way he planned so he planned another plan on top of it, and another and another. If something could happen, he thought he'd thought of it!
He probably spent most of his free time staring at the ceiling, and the rest tidying himself up a bit. This hair didn't look this way naturally you know, it took a lot of hair flips and head shakes to get a glorious hairstyle such as his. It was worth it though, and when he was finally ready Pascal waited outside. He'd never know the dangers of what he'd agreed to until he'd gotten into Zia's car.
"You look especially nice today, did you do something with your hair?" It was usually the hair, right?
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:30 pm
Zia's car didn't look dangerous. It was a lovely little sedan daddy bought her a few years back which had sustained several totally only a few dents that had more or less been hammered out. But it's lack of use made it still fairly new on the inside, in spite of some lingering dog hair and Zia's outdated perfume permanently ingrained in the upholstery.
"Thanks!" She smiled at the compliment and then shrugged it off with a "Just got it done for tonight, nothing outstanding. Ready?" She pulled out into the street. So far so good.
"I know the perfect tailor, don't worry, I won't take you out under dressed. I take care of my boys," She joked, turning out onto another street. This might've been the point where a hint was given Pascal was not in the safest hands. She was speeding, kind of a lot, but there wasn't too much traffic so the real danger hadn't started. Yet.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 6:42 pm
Whatever Pascal had said in reply to Zia's comment about taking care of her boys had been forgotten in a hurry because soon after Pascal had gotten into her car he realized the error. He hadn't even gotten his measurements taken for his burial suit! He was going to regret that because now he was going to look absolutely horrible for the funeral he about to have! Not that it would really matter considering the only person who might come would be the one who drove him to his death but the principal of the matter was still important!
It didn't take long before his thoughts completely washed over and his face cleared into a rather foreign looking expression. Empty with a dash of horror covered with a blank look. It was strange, and the best way to describe it was simply by saying Pascal was a deer staring down the headlights of his impending doom. He didn't move, he didn't blink and he didn't even think about how utterly unfortunate he was to experience a driver as terrible as Zia. Not even sitting completely up-straight with his hands laid across his thighs like a little girl at a tea party could save him now.
Time passed like the hands of a clock in a classroom on a Friday afternoon. It was so slow he had enough time to think about how many ways he could die. This car she just nearly crashed them into as she sped around it? Or perhaps the light she just beat from changing? How many ways he could die only seemed to increase as the traffic seemed to increase. Another car, three new ways to die. If Pascal was ever grateful for the glorious intelligence he had been granted, now was not one of them.
It wasn't clear to Pascal how much time had passed from when he got into the car from the time the car stopped again but he was grateful it had stopped when it did. It was like a great weight had been lifted from him that the young man didn't even stop to linger on the thought (or at least not for a long period of time), that he'd have to get back into the car for a return trip.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 7:05 pm
Zia had spent the entire ride chattering on, basically carrying on a whole conversation by herself, which was necessary! She noticed people tended to be very quiet or very loud during car rides, for some reason. But that was okay. She had given Pascal the entire run down of how these big to-do parties went and why it was relevant to her job, and even though it was dull, he listened so politely!
"Oh, we're here," She chirruped when she pulled into the parking lot and the little sedan death trap came to a stop, nestled safely in a parking spot.
"Come on," In seconds she was enthusiastically pulling on his arm, entirely oblivious to the fact his car trip was damn near traumatizing. No one but Azzo had ever had the guts to tell her how horrifying it was being in the passenger seat, and he was obviously stupid. "I'm thinking, maybe a rolled shoulder single breasted sleek cut, medium sized lapel notches? Or maybe you could pull off the confidence cut fashion," Zia hadn't chattered away like this in forever but shopping with Pascal had her excited in the same way she could get years ago. "Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I should ask you what your favorite suit cut is, I just figured since we're in a younger generation there's no need to be all stuffy like the oldbies, you know?" She just kept going and going and going. "You're not the sort who likes Navy, are you? Black just seems so much cleaner. Can we get some help over here?" That last bit was practically shouted into the store and the hand that was putting the least amount of effort into pulling him around shot into the air like an impatient diner in a restaurant, even though they'd barely arrived.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 7:24 pm
It might actually have been helpful for Pascal to listen and understand what Zia had said about the parties and so forth but it also might have been helpful for Zia to slow down while driving and she wasn't about to do that anytime soon so Pascal called it even. She seemed to be in a good mood, and he seemed to be alive—although it was debatable that she left his liver back at the last turn—so it wasn't too bad.
He followed her into the store, although whether he had a choice in the matter was clear: he didn't really have one. She would have pulled him until he or just his arm had followed her into the store and had the latter occurred then there might have been a problem. He tried his best to listen to what she had said, but he was still a little shaken up from the drive so he simply let a few sentences slip by his ears. It probably wasn't terribly important considering when the two sentences connected she still seemed to be taking about suits. He did manage to catch her asking which suit he had a preference to, and whether he liked navy.
"Oh, heavens no," he teased. "Navy is meant Naval Officers and the night sky, that's it." Well, if he had the energy to joke then effects of his car ride trauma must have been fading away. It was a good sign, that's for sure. "As for suits, what do you think would suit this?" He said, his hands gesturing to his body.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 8:01 pm
"Good boy," Zia joked at his responses. Well it was sort of a joke. Navy was a terrible choice for a suit color and anyone who thought different could just rot in a thrift store or something.
She put a hand on his shoulder and bit her lower lip as she inspected his dimensions. "Rolled shoulder, definitely. Short shoulder is for Italian mobsters," She stated with dead certainty. When an employee approached, she rattled off her conclusions that Pascal needed a decent balance of sleek, classic look and young dude hotness because, come on, they were boomerang generation kids, not grown ups, though Zia's boss might've had differing opinions on his immature associate.
"What are your measurements?" She asked suddenly, pulling on a belt lop of his pants and trying to gauge his size with no sense of personal boundaries.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 9:58 pm
The irony of her calling him a good boy in such a tone was the unknown reminder that it actually fit her better than it did him since she was a cat and all. Good girl, Zia, good girl—who wants rub rubs under her chin chin—aw, who is a good kitty? All right, it was probably a good thing secret identities were secret. It left him one choice, do nothing. He was a good boy, yep, good boys who had very bad ideas of how the evening should play out after nearly dying from her driving.
"Avoid short shoulders if I don't want to be accidentally shot, check," he joked. Joke as he may, he had no doubt in her fashion expertise.
"Uuu," was all he got out. It was very caveman-like but it came with good reason. Who just grabbed onto someone's pants like that? Rapists? Okay so maybe it wasn't that traumatizing. He certainly didn't seem to mind putting himself in Zia's hands with her fashion expertise but he hadn't expected it to come off so literal. At least not so soon because come on, she was hot and he had hopes. However, she was practically begging for him to drop his pants! She had grabbed on his belt loop with the sense of boundaries of a cat, and the young man couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not.
"Depends on what size system you'd prefer to know it in," decidedly was his answer. It had only barely surpassed a response that surely would have gotten him slapped and them kicked out of the boutique. What was that about measurements? Ha ha ha, Pascal sighed deeply. He had to get off this train of thought before the train crashed and ruined the whole day. What was that? Dead kittens? Broken hard drive? A good kick in the crotch could work, maybe.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 11:02 pm
Zia gave him a funny look for his stupefied reaction. She only hooked a finger onto a belt loop. Geez.
"Mm, I would say cinched waist, but it's hard to be sure," She pouted.
"If you don't have your measurements we're going to have to take them," The boutique associate said, entirely unhappy with the both of them. Zia just waved her off. She definitely had a sort of spoiled rich girl flair that a few months living like a normalish 20-something wasn't going to get out of her, and at the moment it was focused on the employee who was 'below' the both of them.
At least the entire measurement taking, awkward as it was, happened in a dressing area rather than out on display on the sales floor.
Zia was super interested in poking at his shoulders and chest, though her mind was mostly on how defined his silhouette should be. There was no room for tact or improper thoughts when she was wrapped up in building the perfect suit.
"When was the last time you shopped for formal wear?" She asked in a lame attempt to engage him into being a little more talkative
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 12:15 am
Zia had an impressive air to her, something he could only assume was caused from her upbringing. Given how comfortable she was in the boutique, he had a hunch that Zia grew up on tailored clothes and brand names. She probably had everything she ever wanted except for her parent's love and attention. A typical upbringing, not very different from his own once you excluded money. Not that he was poor but he suspected Zia was on a tier of her own class.
"The last time I shopped for formal wear?" He repeated, mostly giving himself a moment to think on it. It was only mildly distracting to have Zia poking his shoulders and his chest, mostly because at this point he had adapted to her touches. The last time he had shopped for formal wear was awhile ago, probably when he was 13. It would have been the year his father's mother, his grandmother, had died. However, what he remembered first was it was the year he had been sent off to boarding school. Boarding school had been a huge, life-changing event for Pascal while his grandmother dying was just something that happened. She'd probably raise from the dead just to smack him if he ever said that out loud but the truth was he hadn't been very close to her, and from what Pascal had heard of her she wasn't a very pleasant woman either.
"I can say with most certainty that it was the year my grandmother died, as well as the year I was sent to boarding school," he said, his eyes following Zia's small motions. "I remember explicitly because my father complained that children grow too fast when he realized the suit from the funeral didn't fit anymore and that he actually had to get me a new one." That wasn't entirely true. The truth was that his father hadn't exactly said that children grow too fast because he had been drunk at the time but Pascal got the message loud and clear because action speak louder than words. It was going to be a good day, and Pascal simply didn't want to start it off by saying the last time he went shopping for a suit was with a black eye and sprained wrist.
Boys will be boys. No one thought it was strange to hear that Pascal was being bullied again.
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