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There was a lot that Tallulah had to be thankful for this year, and her parents and grandparents were not shy about reminding her of as much. Facing her father’s parents was awkward, though, especially when they made comments about her cousin Kat’s absence - their other granddaughter moving to Destiny City was meant to draw the family closer together, not make her vanish without a trace, and the awkward guilt that pooled in Tallulah’s stomach was enough to make her lose her appetite: although she knew, logically, that she wasn’t responsible for Leto’s fall from grace, sometimes she fell into poisonous thinking: if you’d been closer than her, if you’d made sure she was hanging out with the right crowd, if you’d pulled her into your circle of friends instead of leaving her to find her own, none of this would have ever happened.

No one saw any reason to have two family gatherings so close together, and with her birthday falling just one day after the holiday, it made sense. Tallulah did cake and candles after thanksgiving dinner, splitting her dessert plate between red velvet and apple pie. She was looking forward to having someone to celebrate with on her actual birthday, though, even if she wasn’t completely sure whether Paul was taking her out as a friend or as a date. (She sort of hoped it was a date. She dressed like it was a date, in a sharp blue dress and clever tights with an x-ray print on them.)

“I had some leftovers from last night,” she said, buckling in. “I think my dad likes you.” Though it probably wasn’t that hard to impress Angus Cowden when your closest competition was a juvenile delinquent who’d been broken up with three years previously. “I mean, if you haven’t eaten, then I could get something, but if you have then we should just skip ahead to the bar.” Then, she was quiet for a while, because she wasn’t sure how chatty it was appropriate to be - but then the cab ride would be more awkward if she didn’t talk, she decided. It wouldn’t do to make Paul think she didn’t like him!

“I’m really glad that you called me to make plans,” she continued, breaking the silence. “Even if you didn’t know it was my birthday, because I didn’t really have any, otherwise.” Sometimes, it really sucked to be among the oldest of your group of friends. Paris, Penelope, Krysta - all younger than her.

The cab pulled to a stop, and Tallulah followed Paul out of the cab. “This place looks really cool,” she said, because it did. She worried that she wasn’t cool enough to even get in the door, even in an outfit that she’d snapchatted to three people and received positive reviews from all of them. Seriously, she wondered - was this a date?

Tallulah took his arm when he offered it, which seemed to be a strike in the this is totally a date column. She supposed it was better that she’d eaten in advance - less awkward than explaining that she was a vegetarian and couldn’t eat anything at the totally great seafood place. She was sure it would come up at some point - it usually did. Anyway, the bar seemed really cool once they were in it - definitely hipster, but then there was nothing wrong with that. She’d heard older classmates talk about coming here. So this was what all the fuss was about.

She did a double-take when Paul mentioned that the singer was dating the drummer - the blonde guy on the kit looked like he was in his forties. An attractive forty, to be sure, but still. “Really?” Tallulah asked Paul, hopping onto her tiptoes so she could get closer to his ear and thus speak more quietly. “That guy looks old enough to be her dad.” Well, it would be useful ammunition if her father ever tried to make a stink about Paul being four years older than her. Which was a date-y way of thinking. Tallulah told herself to stop and took the menu.

“Thank you. I should start with something festive, I suppose,” she mentioned, scanning for the specialty cocktails. Unaccustomed as she was to drinking alcohol (seriously), she figured it was probably safe to start with whatever promised to be fruity and go down easy. Bonus points if it promised to be blueberry-flavored. She leaned towards Paul and pointed to a menu item titled the Mermaid’s Kiss. “That one, please,” she said.

Tallulah gave him an odd look when he mentioned senshi warriors. On the one hand, given the color of her drink, it was entirely possible he was talking about her. The cyan was exactly the color of her tentacle ribbons, but she’d never worn cerulean; always more of a steel blue. On the other hand, she wasn’t supposed to know anything about that. And neither, really, was he. “The terrorists?” she asked, raising her glass to her lips and tasting the sugar on the rim of the glass. “I’ve never actually seen any of them up-close,” she lied. “Only on news reports.”

She took a sip of her drink, which was cold and sweet and definitely tasted like fresh blueberries but also, very strongly, of alcohol. “It’s good,” she said, blinking. “It’s stronger than I was expecting, I think.” But then, her experience with alcohol prior to now was limited to the occasional glass of wine with dinner on special occasions, and in the last year and a half there hadn’t been many of those. “How’s yours?” she asked, eying Paul’s glass. She’d heard him ask for it as a Savoy Affair. “I don’t think I saw it on the menu.”

“Huh,” said Tallulah, sipping her drink. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about Sailor Europa or not and it didn’t seem to matter, because one way or the other, there would never be any cause for him to learn they were one and the same. Besides, she’d never worn cerulean as a senshi, and there was no ombre on her ribbons. Scylla wore cerulean, she reasoned, taking a long sip to hide her thinking, and even if Europa and Scylla looked nothing alike in person, it would be easy to mix them up just in describing them. “I think I missed that,” she said, swallowing. “Maybe it’s online.”

“So you’re kind of a regular here?” she asked, taking the strawberry from his outstretched fingers. Generous of him, she thought, popping it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, and then added, “I mean, enough of a regular to know the secret menu. Unless it’s on their website, like Starbucks?” It was not her finest joke. Maybe she should just give up on trying to be funny, because it wasn’t flattering. “I mean, never mind,” she laughed sheepishly, glancing down at her drink. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said, raising the glass to her lips again. “It’s been a pretty good birthday so far.”

Tallulah filed the youtube search away for later, somewhere in her mind between her grocery list and the running total of things to frantically text Paris and Penelope about when she got home. He had a nice laugh, she thought, and it was nice to see him lighten up when he’d seemed so serious the first time they met. Even if she didn’t have all the details, she expected he was probably still grieving his sister on some level, and it occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one that this night was benefiting. “Well, luckily for you,” she boasted, “I happen to know entirely too much about Law & Order.” Which sounded, you know, way dorkier than she’d meant it to sound.

Backtracking, Tallulah said, “Police procedurals are my favorite kind of television,” which probably sounded worse. “I mean, if you wanted to bring me along as a ringer, I could probably do pretty respectably at that.” Which was still cringeworthy, and she could feel the blush sneaking up her cheeks. “I’m not some Netflix-binging weirdo,” she floundered, which was a lie, she totally was. “I just had a lot of time recently when pretty much the only thing I could do was watch tv and sleep.” Which was depressing! Nice going, Tallulah. She looked down and poked at her drink with the stirrer sticks in it.

“I mean,” she said embarrassedly. “If I have not just convinced you that I am a tremendous dork unfit to be seen in public with. Because I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that right now.”

Well, now she just felt stupid, and worried that she’d insulted him. “You got me,” she admitted. “I’m totally a Netflix-bingeing weirdo. I just sort of panicked? And then lied. I’m sorry. It happens sometimes.” And not that she was trying to keep up with him or anything like that, because she was feeling plenty tipsy at the moment off just one drink, but she tipped her glass back and finished off the last of the blue slush, because not only was it delicious but it was also melting at an alarming rate. “And are you implying that just because I like cop shows, I can’t appreciate a good documentary? Because I will prove you so wrong if you give me a chance.”

But he was already changing the subject, so there was no time for her to marvel at her own suaveness and all the time in the world to debate whether she should ask if this was a date. The answer was probably yes, because even if that could be temporarily mortifying, the alternative had an infinitely higher embarrassment quotient. “Sounds good,” Tallulah said, eying the bowl of popcorn. She reached forward and picked a few big pieces off and popped them into her mouth, one at a time.

“This is probably a stupid question,” she said, looking up at him, “But would that be a date? Is this a date right now? Because it’s like, definitely not studying.” Unless the subject at hand was lessons in human sexuality that you missed when you should have been awkwardly fumbling through them in high school, in which case she could only guess she was probably failing the course. Wincing, Tallulah reached for another few pieces of popcorn. “Sorry if I’ve completely misread the situation.”

Tallulah definitely liked the sounds of all that - it was funny how she could be complaining to Paris one week about having not been out with anyone since senior year of high school, and then two weeks later be out on a date with a totally cute guy. “Yeah, count me in,” she said. Not like she’d have any finals to study for this time around, but that was fast approaching, right? And it was another invitation to hang out. And it sounded pretty darn flirtatious.

She reached for the popcorn, trying to look thoughtful and composed, but a grin snuck across her face until she just couldn’t control it any more. “I think that in that case,” she said, carefully selecting what cursory examinations said was the largest piece of popcorn on top of the bowl. “In that case, I would like for this to be a date.” Because, newsflash, Paul was cute and it had been so long since she’d been kissed that she wasn’t sure she still knew how to do it.

“Is that okay?” she asked, looking over at him.