[ with weyland in nyc ]

[tragic_mask]

They step through the door, and find themselves on the cracked sidewalk outside of a lively bar. A sign glows: "Blue Owl."

It's nighttime, but the city still glows with all kinds of light, and shakes with the noise of honking, shouting, music, the clinking of glasses, all blending together into the cacophony and symphony of the city.

Melpomene looks around. "Well, we're back... Right where I started."

Comments

[mechanicalswans]

He wrinkles his nose. "I will try," he says after a moment. "He doesn't make it easy, you know. I know I don't either, but... well, he thinks I'm not good enough for you. And he's going to have to get used to the fact that I'm not going anywhere."

[tragic_mask]

She laughs, and leans against him. "You do indignant spouse very well, you know that?"

[mechanicalswans]

"I do adoring spouse very well also," he says with a smile. "If there's one thing I'm very good at, it is artifice--imagine passing off a mechanical person as your spouse, to your neighbors and the people around town. I've had a lot of practice."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, right. I guess I'm the newbie here."

[mechanicalswans]

"There's no shame in not having experience with synthetic relationships," he says softly. "I like you better this way. More spontaneous, as you said."

[tragic_mask]

"It's a good way to be, in my opinion. No formula, unexpected results."

[mechanicalswans]

"It isn't easy, for me. My life tends to turn into routine, if I don't have someone or something to shake me out of it, so it can get very dull. The trouble with clockwork, I suppose."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, if you do it, clockwork is fairly meticulous."

She kisses him lightly on the cheek. "And that's why we're having a tourist weekend. When are we doing this, anyway?"

[mechanicalswans]

"Whenever you like," he says. "I have nothing on my schedule at all, and would just need a day's notice. I'd need to get some money from the bar, and we can go shopping before we leave."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, I don't have much on my agenda either, so... when we get back to the bar, we can decide."

[mechanicalswans]

"Excellent," he says, resting his head on her shoulder again. "The joys of having a... time-portal thing, and of being immortal--very few things are terribly pressing. Right now I'm quite enjoying this."

[tragic_mask]

"Good, so am I." She's quite comfortable, too.

[mechanicalswans]

"You are a treasure. I hope you know that."

He kisses the side of her neck, largely because he can reach it without moving very much.

He thinks he may regret letting his guard down so much, tomorrow morning when he is sober, but right now it feels very right.

[tragic_mask]

"Yes, I've been told so. But I never really believe the authenticity of the words of a man with alcohol on his breath." She grins. "But I suppose I've been plying you with my best tequila, so it's my fault."

[mechanicalswans]

"It's not the tequila, so much as the vodka, the... Scotch? and the beer that preceded it. And the cigarettes instead of dinner, that didn't help much either."

He chuckles quietly. "But it's true all the same."

[tragic_mask]

"Mmhmm," she says, doubtfully. "Well, I'll give you a night to sleep on that comment."

[mechanicalswans]

"Are you getting tired, then?" he asks. "I could stay right like this all night, but a fine guest I would be, keeping you awake and making you feel obligated to stay up with me."

[tragic_mask]

"No, no, I don't need to sleep. Really. But I was giving you the chance to sober up before you comment on my value." She casts a look at him. "Keep me up as long as you like."

[mechanicalswans]

"...what, you wouldn't want a bit of tipsy serenading?" he asks, grinning a bit. "I would sing outside your window, but it's all the way downstairs and I doubt I could be loud enough for you to hear all the way up here over the traffic. Some people would say that you get a more truthful opinion from someone who isn't sober, and isn't as inhibited from telling the truth..."

[tragic_mask]

"That could be true, but you don't seem as forthcoming as most uninhibited drunks, so I think those rules are off the table."

She ponders. "However, a tipsy serenade is always delightful. Or a tipsy tango. Rose in teeth, and all."

[mechanicalswans]

"Have you got any roses?" he asks. "It's not the same without them. But if not, I'm sure there are other dances that could be done. There's always waltzing, but it takes a lot of space. And I haven't really danced in a very long time."

[tragic_mask]

"Haven't you? Why, that's a man's ticket to success in my book. Have you keep up-to-date on the latest dances. And I don't mean the thrashing they do today-- foxtrot, rumba, those sorts of things."

She shakes her head. "If you don't know them, I will have to teach you, and sometime soon."

[mechanicalswans]

"I know them," he says, giving another light kiss to the side of her neck. "I'll have you know, back in the day when the only social options where I lived were going to church or going to the jazz club, I was quite a good dancer. I have an excellent sense of rhythm."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, well, I'm sure. As soon as we can get some roses, then, I'll test that rhythm." She sways, eyes half-closed. "I love the tango. South American dances always have... soul."

[mechanicalswans]

"You'll have to help me with that, then," he says, swaying contentedly with her. "I may have technical precision, but I suspect that my dancing is lacking in soul. My family was never that kind of people."