Eris arrives in the Annex of the Tower and makes the zig-zag turns down the lower halls and into the space that The Drifter occupies. She sees him perk up when she makes her way down the short hallway, pushing himself off the railing he’s always leaning against. She hears his greeting of ‘’Ey, Moondust’, but she is focused on the task that’s brought her here.
She reaches out and takes his hand, pressing something into his palm and he makes a grunt of confusion, moving to look at what she’s placed there. But she rolls his fingers closed around it. “Two minutes,” she says, “then open your hand.” It’s suitably confusing and cryptic coming from her as she turns and exits, swinging back down the hall to head up towards the Bazaar.
“Two… what?” It’s a few seconds after she leaves that Drifter processes what just happened, brows lifting, his eyes staring at his not closed by his own means hand.
“Huh?”
His fingers twitch against the item rubbing against his palm as he looks up at where Eris just departed from. He could just open it. Take a quick peek. She’d never know.
But, instead, he actually makes himself wait. No matter how itchy the item makes him feel, no matter how bored his usual coin walking trick on his other hand doesn’t distract him enough.
It’s a very long two minutes.
He waits just past the asked time; it’s two minutes and 10 seconds, not that he's keeping count or anything, before he lets his fingers relax so he can see what’s been shoved into his hand.
Two minutes gives Eris enough time to exit the Annex entirely. What’s left in Drifter’s hand is a piece of paper, neatly folded in four to make a little rectangle. Well, perhaps a little wrinkled now, but a rectangle nonetheless.
When he opens it, written in Eris’ handwriting, it reads:
![[D2] someone's going on a date, i wonder who - Starkzilla, obliviousally (1)](https://i0.wp.com/i.postimg.cc/mkTWSRc7/image.png "[D2] someone's going on a date, i wonder who - Starkzilla, obliviousally (1)")
Seems like it’s later afternoon now, should be enough time to get cleaned up…
Anyone passing by the Annex would be able to hear a noise akin to a strangled chicken coming from where the Drifter hangs out. It passes quickly and eventually the Guardians and Eliksni resume their usual business.
Moments later, however, the Gambit area is locked down and vacant with said Drifter nowhere to be found.
He’s still absent way into the evening.
Absent from the Tower, that is.
At 9:55 PM he’s standing outside of Kailani’s apartment, looking noticeably less scruffy than usual, and in a cleaned up version of his “I just crawled out of a cave after killing a bear with my bare hands and nothing else” outfit.
He wears no pauldrons of fur, just a thin, dark green overcoat and a simple off-white shirt somewhat tucked into the hem of military-style cargo pants held up with, of course, a snakeskin belt. And his boots of course. And his headband. And that jade snake pendant.
After some hesitation he actually knocks on the door, takes a couple steps back then… waits.
Behind the door, there's some commotion. Maybe two female voices? A muffled back and forth before silence resumes and the door is answered by an Eris in a pared down version of her normal attire. Not fully casual, and absolutely not any kind of dressed up, but relaxed, one could say.
“It’s nice to see you,” she says.
Drifter doesn’t stare, no. Not one bit. He does, however, stand up straight and clear his throat before speaking.
“It’s an honor. Thank you for invi–”
He pauses, then shakes his head and resumes his usual posture.
“f*ck it. You look good, Moondust, and I ain’t ashamed to say it.”
The slight flush of his face suggests otherwise but he doesn’t call attention to it.
“I, uh, brought a dinner gift. Heard it’s what folks with manners do t’seem fancy.”
He smiles in that lopsided, almost a smirk, usual way of his and holds out a bottle of some unassuming wine, the neck of the bottle decorated with a jade green ribbon tied into a bow.
“Eva says it’s decent but I ain’t got a damn clue myself. I know my alcohol but wine? Eh.”
Eris rolls the bottle back and forth in her hands, thumb running over the ribbon.
"We will have to partake of it later and find out," she says, "Kailani graciously made us reservations and, um, I do not know the protocol for taking your own wine into an establishment." To say the least.
“She did what? Woah, woah, what kinda sketchy situation am I runnin’ into here?”
Drifter glances around as he tries to spot the mentioned Titan, a brief frown appearing on his face before he leans away, muttering to himself.
“We ain’t eatin’ here? We’re goin’... out? Y’sure about that, Moondust?”
“Well, I am not entirely sure, to be completely honest,” she admits. “She offered to help arrange something and it’s not as though I’ve been on any sort of date recently. I am sure us ‘bailing’ would do nothing more than open up a space for someone else.”
The Titan is, however, nowhere to be seen. She promised Eris she would scooch out of her place in case they ‘wanted to use it’. She supposes this falls under that definition.
“Though, I must agree that, perhaps, dining in public…. I think it would be uncomfortable.” She looks back at the door and offers a small shrug, “Kailani gave me a key, and offered use of her apartment. We could order in?”
Well now he’s torn. Stay in, where there’s less of a chance of others gawking and whispering and staring, or mentally say “f*ck it” and strutting into the restaurant like he owns the place. But he knows he’d probably get into trouble if anyone said anything to Eris. He’s used to the not so nice comments about himself, but her? She doesn’t deserve that.
Though, when she mentions not having been on a date, especially recently, that traitorous flush creeps back onto his face and he turns his head while using a well faked cough as an excuse.
“Hey, here’s a solution. How about you and me play hooky from this fancy shindig, tell Kailani to take ou–her boyfriend out for that nice dinner, and we just sit here and do your suggestion. Get some takeout, have a casual chat, maybe play some cards if you’re feelin’ daring.” The Drifter smiles at Eris and manages to, hopefully, not look overly relieved and nervous at the same time.
“Sides, who knows if a casual meetin’ between friends might have t’turn to business talk, what with…” He gestures towards the ceiling of the apartment, in the vague direction of the Traveler, then sneers, “This whole mess.”
Eris does seem to visibly relax a bit at the agreed mutual go-out-to-dinner-kind-of-date cancellation. “I believe she herself has already ‘bailed’ from her apartment, but I’ll send along a message and let her know if she wants to keep the reservation,” she says.
“Food, chatting, and cards all sound like a pleasant evening,” she pushes the apartment door back open, “After you. I believe you know your way around here better than myself, at least.”
“I already know you clean up nice, when… uh, hah, I would kinda love t’see that Titan get outta her torn up jeans and ratty shirts into somethin’ presentable. Same with the Warlock but he might be more open to it. Even with his ridiculous hair.”
That’s right, talk about other things, don’t focus on the situation at hand. It’s one of the things Drifter does best. He gives her a simple nod that’s accompanied by a chuckle as he heads into the apartment, still chatting away.
“I’ll let you pick the place to order from. We both know I ain’t picky when it comes to food.”
Once Eris is in the apartment as well he starts giving her a very abbreviated tour, colored with his own style of commentary, trying not to try too hard while also not wanting to make it seem like he’s taken over the Titan’s apartment for himself.
“...and there’s where she sprawls on the floor and reads if the couch is taken over. Sometimes you’ll see all kinds of cats just roaming in and out of her apartment. She likes to collect strays, and I guess that’s how she ended up with Danior and me hangin’ out here from time t’time…”
"She looked presentable when she departed. Perhaps asking would get you better results than wondering," Eris says absently. She's giving him sh*t, clearly.
"You spend a lot of time here," she notes, an obvious assumption from his tour, "Kailani said you like to make breakfast and, ah," she thinks for a moment, "be the 'middle spoon'." Her expression hasn't changed much, but something in her demeanor is holding back a laugh.
"Do you like Indian?,” she asks, between listening to the tour, “Biryani or vindaloo would be quite satisfying, I think." Also, possibly, she knows that it's a good cuisine to get to share amongst people.
Drifter pauses and snorts before turning away from Eris.
“I never cook for ‘em! That’s Danior’s job. He’s–”
Oh. He’s stuck in a conversation that has no easy way out.
“Again, Danior cooks and /he’s/ the middle spoon. Usually. Well, uh, sometimes I cook too, but it don’t always end up edible t’them!”
That doesn’t make him sound any better.
He sighs, defeated, and shrugs.
“...Biryani. Goat if they have it. If not, I can eat anyth–whatever they got on the menu. The spicier the better,” he finally says. “Don’t let ‘em talk you outta the proper spice level either. If they do, just let me talk to ‘em.”
There’s a pause and he musters up a smile, “Might even get ya extra naan too, once they hear me orderin’. Sometimes I treat the winners in Gambit to a good meal, dependin’ on the amount of motes they drop.”
Eris listens to him stumble around being lightly defensive of his newfound little bit of domestic bliss. She offers a simple ‘mm-hmm’ that’s right in the middle of ‘oh, you’re really out of your wheelhouse here’ and ‘it’s kinda sweet to see you flustered like this’. Neither of which, of course, are voiced.
“I suppose I will keep the other things she shared with me to myself,” she comments, “You are also an acceptable cook, provided you disclose your ingredients first.” It’s just….a gamble, otherwise. Which feels apt for the Lightbearer.
Still, in the midst of their conversation, she places an order at her preferred Indian restaurant. Plenty for the pair of them, and likely enough for leftovers for the other two.
“...what other things?” Drifter spits out before he can reel his thoughts in, but covers it up with his usual chuckle and a wave of one hand. “She loves to tell stories. Titans always do. She doesn’t wanna be seen as soft.”
He resists the urge to flop down on the couch he mentioned a moment ago and instead settles onto it, arm on the arm rest, one leg crossing over the other at the knee, all while leaving more than enough space for Eris to sit on the couch or one of the chairs present.
“Hey, I cook with what I got at hand. Danior does the same but he just has access to City stuff. I didn’t for a long while.” His brows ruffle a little.
“Anyhow, so why the whole “mystery setup” with a note, waitin’, and… fancy? What /is/ the plan here?”
He tries not to sound too guarded but he can’t help it.
Eris offers a shug, a surprisingly loose gesture from someone who is so naturally calculated and seemingly tightly wound. “I was simply not bold enough to ask face-to-face,” she admits, “even though Kailani was adamant you would not turn me down.” Chalk it up to, well, again, it’s not like she Dates.
“An acquaintance offered to ‘play matchmaker’ - her terminology - but I thought that was too disconnected. Instead, I knew two minutes was enough time to make a swift exit out of the annex and to the top of the stairs.” She could’ve just transmatted out, but Kailani did tag along for moral support and it would’ve been rude to leave her hanging.
“But it is simply ‘a date’. Nothing more.”
Those same ruffled brows arch up as a rare expression of surprise crosses Drifter’s face.
“Simply a date? Hate t’break it to ya, Moondust, but dates usually are anything but simple. Especially when the word “matchmaker” is involved. I think you’re thinkin’ of… what’s the word? Brunch?”
Hoo boy. He’s in way over his head here and it shows. He’s completely out of his element.
“Why don’t we forget all that bull and just have a meal, catch up, and not, uh, maybe not mention that word.”
All three of her eyes squint. "What, exactly, is your definition of a date?" Maybe they're both confused, which feels like it could very well be possible. "'Matchmaker' was the Cryptarch's term - but she is a busy-body and a gossip."
The doorbell rings, breaking the discussion and halting her response. Food is a good interruption for whatever is happening here. Since she's still standing, she answers the door and retrieves the food. The delivery person only does a double-take, but otherwise is cordial.
On the coffee table, she sits the bags - it smells delicious.
Drifter waits until Eris goes to grab the food, makes sure she’s not paying him any attention, and lets out the sigh he’d been holding in. Thankful for any sort of distraction at this point he stands up, stretches to try and alleviate some of the nervous energy he’s managed to contain, then heads for the kitchen to fetch some plates and silverware.
“What’s your beverage of choice, Moondust?” he calls out, rummaging through the fridge for a cold beer for himself. “I think wine needs t’be chilled but I know the Titan ain’t got no fancy device for that.”
He pauses and lets a quick laugh slip free. “Guess I could just use Stasis but with my luck I’d shatter the damn bottle.”
As she unpacks the food, Eris shrugs a little, "Tea is nice, but I am not picky. I'll be just as content with water. The Titan also does not seem the sort to have a lot of juic--," she pauses, "Wine. Wine is juice." She says it in the way like 'eris u dumbass, of course wine is juice'.
She rummages around for the bottle he brought, pulling it from the bag and holding it in her hands. Tiny ice crystals begin to form on the glass and she focuses on it long enough that she's confident the liquid inside is cooled sufficiently. "Problem solved," she smiles.
Drifter brings back three items: a beer for himself, a canister with assorted teas in it, and a mug for said tea. “Gotta wait for the water t’boil and, uh, not sure what type you like, so I brought the whole thing. You’d be shocked what she keeps in stock for us strays,” he says, smirking just a little. “Danior can be a picky lil bastard.”
“Nice trick. Once a Guardian always a Guardian, huh Moondust?” He pauses, then looks like he just kicked himself square in the groin. That probably wasn’t the best thing to say to, of all people, Eris.
Eris doesn't seem too miffed by the comment. "Even without the Light, you learn to make do," she says, sitting the chilled bottle on the table as she resumes unpacking the food. Opening containers so that they can spoon their own servings onto plates.
"Danior seems like he is...a complex individual. Full of strange juxtapositions." To say the least.
“He ain’t too bad, I guess. Kinda reminds me of a young Ikora,” Drifter says as he goes to pull the now whistling kettle from the stove.
“His sister, however, well that’s another mess even I don’t wanna get involved in.”
Drifter carefully pours hot water into Eris’ cup, somehow knowing just the right amount, then vanishes back into the kitchen.
Eris smirks a bit at that. “Headstrong. Unconventional. I can see it,” she says in response. “I’ve met his sister, as well.”
She sits on the couch, looking through the tea options, “Quit fussing around and bring some plates.”
“I ain’t fussin!” Drifter yells from the kitchen, trying not to sound like he’s been caught in the act, and a moment later he appears with plates and utensils. “You met Lea and survived? How th’hell’d you pull off that trick?”
The plates and such are set down on the table and he reclaims his seat, taking a drink of his beer before crossing one leg over the opposite knee.
“I barely came away intact after dealin’ with that one. She’s… somethin’.”
“You remember when I came to assist after Danior returned from the Pyramid,” Eris says; it’s a statement not a question. She knows he remembers.
She takes a plate, picking a little bit of everything, passing some naan over to Drifter next to her, “Kailani and her got into it, I was spared,” she elaborates, doubting he knew or knows the details of that particular interaction.
“I can see how you would come away tattered, that’s for sure.”
He gladly accepts the bread and waits until she’s taken food for herself, then sets his beer down to scoop food onto his own plate. Maybe he does have manners!
“Yeah, I don’t get how her and Danior are related usually but I think they both share a similar temper. He’s just less likely t’let it loose. Think that’s why we knew that the other Danior wasn’t him. But enough job talk.”
He takes a bite of naan, chews thoughtfully, then looks over. “How are ya holdin’ up? You ain’t gotta be truthful but I like to think I can read folks pretty well. You’ve seen some nasty sh*t with all the mindf*ckin’ things the Nightmares are doin’, can’t imagine it’s easy to brush off.”
All three eyes give him a sideways glance, “I thought we weren’t talking about work?” Eris says with a faint smirk. “But it is a fair question, I suppose. I am doing fine,” she spoons some butter chicken onto a piece of naan.
“The Nightmares are doing only what they were made to do, and in that you learn what to expect from them - mostly. So many fears are universal, and the Leviathan-born Nightmares can only work with what they have available to them. It has been challenging, but not difficult.”
It’s slightly hard to tell if she’s being evasive by not quite answering the question, but she is being honest.
“My own and I are learning to live with each other.”
“So asking a friend about how they’re doin’ is job related? Hell, Ikora owes you a lot of overtime pay then!”
Drifter manages to hold back a laugh but he’s smiling, a genuine one that makes his facial scars wrinkle.
“Okay, you pick a topic that isn’t work related. I’m curious as to what goes on in that spooky noggin of yours, Moondust.”
He doesn’t give her time to protest; he picks up his fork and starts eating while watching her.
Eris leans back into the couch, possibly the most casual anyone has ever witnessed her, and squints all three eyes at him. “Favorite holiday. Best meal you’ve ever had. Most memorable sunrise. Favorite place in the system.”
She smirks, “It’s all very spooky, you see.”
The tables turned, she stuffs the butter chicken naan in her mouth and waits.
Drifter arches a single brow in mid-chew, somehow managing not to laugh or choke or some combination of both as he mulls over Eris’ questions.
“Hmm.”
He helps himself to another forkful of food, continues thinking, and eventually, after he’s had a healthy swig of his beer, he finally answers.
“We talkin’ Dark Age, Golden Age, or the new, squeaky clean stuff Eva does t’make Guardians feel human again? Best meal I ever had was in some sh*tty hole in the wall joint. Couldn’t read the menu and I didn’t need to. Food was that damn good. Still don’t know what it was.”
He flashes a brief smile before moving on to the next question.
“Every sunrise is a memorable one when you’re me. Favorite place? Huh. Never gave that one much thought. I don’t stick around places long enough t’get too attached. But if I had t’guess… probably Europa. Felt nice doin’ some good for a change.”
“Half and half, I’ll accept that.” Half and half what? She doesn’t elaborate. “I wouldn’t think a frozen moon would be on the list of places you enjoyed after your other experiences with frozen planets.”
A fair assumption, after all.
“Eva’s holidays, I think, are nice enough. I know I’ve been prickly about them in the past, but I think she’s doing a good thing with them,” she sits up to acquire some more food.
Drifter makes a noise of disbelief but it's in good humor. He hopes. He also ignores the statement about him and frozen planets. Any discussion about that would just ruin the vibe.
“Y’gave out raisins, Moondust! Raisins! Y’know how many Guardians you made disgruntled? It was hilarious!” He laughs and eats a bit more, giving him time to mull over his thoughts.
“So, what about you? Favorite meal? Favorite place? And I've been to far worse places than Europa. At least I had interestin’ company there.”
It takes him a couple seconds but when he realizes what he just said he comes to a complete stop, even pausing mid-chew.
“Listen,” Eris says, “raisins are delicious, I don’t know why they were so annoyed.”
“A member of Mara’s Queensguard makes a dessert called a ‘raindrop cake’. It’s like water…but not? It melts in your mouth and you eat it with a sweet syrup and something crumbly to give it texture and flavor. There’s a certain novelty to it that, I think, is childlike. If I had memory of being a child, I think those things would go hand-in-hand.”
She glances over at his sudden stop and, well, she can’t exactly raise an eyebrow, but the expression is close to that. “Elisabeth is certainly interesting company,” she comments. “It’s not every day you get a harrowing prediction of your rise to great and terrible power from just anyone, after all.”
“People -hate- raisins, especially when they’re given as a gift.”
It’s hard as hell for Drifter to not start laughing again; his nose wrinkles a little and the scars on his face do the same again as he snorts in amusem*nt.
“Raindrop cake? Huh. Sounds interestin’. Maybe you’ll have t’get some and let me try it. Hell, I’ll try anything once.”
The grin on his face is, as usual, fairly sleazy, but there’s some genuine curiosity and interest lurking in it, even as he pauses chatting to shovel in another forkful of food.
“Mmm,” is his first reply, he’s still chewing and mulling over the look Eris gives him, trying not to read too much into it. Once he swallows he tears off a piece of his naan and uses it as a shovel for the remaining food on his plate.
“Yeah, she’s somethin’ all right. Got the fire of a Bray in her that’s for sure. Hopefully none of the bad parts that go with it.”
“Maybe this year I will be especially devious and learn to make cookies with raisins,” she comments idly.
“I could make arrangements. You’d have to go to the Dreaming City with me, however.” A pause, thoughtful, “You’re not on Mara’s bad side, last I was aware…”
Okay, the cookie comment does make him laugh /and/ choke on his food. Thankfully it’s not a “rezzed by Ghost” situation; a quick chug from his beer, a few thumps of one fist against his chest, and he’s no longer struggling.
“I’d pay t’see you do that, Moondust. Just gotta be ready for all the pissed off Guardians toilet papering your belongings.”
He meets her next statement with a look that’s both amused yet doubtful.
“I dunno about that, I try t’stay outta that area as much as possible. Got the feelin” some of the stuff I mucked around in on the Tangled Shore might come back t’bite me on the ass.”
Eris hmmms thoughtfully, “I may be willing to vouch for you. The Queen and I have a good relationship. I think, if you are capable of behaving, we can work something out.”
She’s split on if he’s capable of behaving, to be honest.
“I bet Petra would love another chance to shove a boot up my ass,” Drifter snort-laughs, shaking his head. “And hey, I’m /always/ on my best behavior! Trust!”
Eris gives him a sidelong glance. “I will give you….eighty percent. Quite generous, I think,” she says as she reaches for the wine bottle and stands to find suitable wine-drinking receptacles. “Let’s see if Eva’s review is accurate.”
“Eighty? Hell, Moondust, I wasn’t expectin’ anything above 30 percent if we’re bein’ honest.” Drifter remains sitting but he does gesture towards the kitchen.
“If she’s got any fancy glasses that ain’t beer steins or novelty mugs they’d be in the right upper cabinet by the fridge. I think,” he quickly adds, as if to cover up just how well he knows the apartment.
She rummages around, looking in the cupboards. She doesn’t find wine glasses, which is fine, but at least she does find some glassware at the least. Eris isn’t a wine snob, but she would feel a little silly drinking out of…is that a mug shaped like a frog?
She closes the cupboard and places the mismatched glasses on the counter as she looks for a corkscrew. This, at least, isn’t hard to find and easily pops the cork and pours the wine before heading back over to the couch.
“Good direction,” she says, handing over one of the glasses.
Drifter raises one brow as he accepts his glass, doing his best to ignore the “Best Titan Ever” title hastily etched on one side of it.
“Hey, I like t’keep track of where I’m at. Gotta cover my escape routes.”
With that same annoying, confident, all too smug smirk, he lifts his glass to clink it against the one Eris holds once she fills it.
“To bad first dates!” he announces, then chugs down the wine. Once he finishes he looks back over at her and smirks again.
“Was I the first?”
He’s joking. Really. Maybe.
He makes it sound like he’s teasing, or it’s a challenge, but something in his eyes says otherwise.
Eris grins. Like, genuinely grins. “Best bad first date in decades,” she says, teasing, but pleased. “I’ll let you plan the next one, even.”
Where can he even begin to start with her comment?
“Next one?!” he sputters, his co*cky expression fully gone.
“You can’t be anywhere close t’serious, Moondust! This is just you losin’ a bet, right? …Right?”
Drifter looks away and twitches his fingers until he finds a coin he can fidget with.
“Joke’s over,” he suddenly grumbles as he stands up.
“I don’t want or need a pity date. I’m sorry that whoever put you up to this wasted your time.”
Apparently somehow a nerve was struck and his veneer of self-confidence is quickly beginning to wear away.
Eris doesn’t budge from her seat at his mood swing. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to.” Well, not that would ever be obvious, at least. “But if you think I would have the cruelty in me for a ‘joke date’, I fear that the time we’ve spent getting to know each other was full to the brim of misinformation.”
The man pauses and tenses up almost as if he’d been physically struck by Eris’ words. The coin between his fingers drops to the floor with an unusually loud (in his ears, at least) ding, bouncing a couple times before laying flat with the Gambit snake emblem facing upwards.
Drifter keeps his back to her as more time passes, his shoulders rising and falling, as if he’s either deep in thought or trying to figure out what to say that won’t set off an argument.
“...fine. If it ain’t pity, or a joke, then what is it?”
His voice is barely above a whisper and he doesn’t even turn in her direction, but neither is he moving towards the door or having his Ghost transmat him away from the apartment. He seems frozen in place.
When he doesn’t get an immediate answer, when the silence becomes too much, he finally turns to face her.
“I care about ya, Moondust!” he shouts, then steps back.
Oh.
Oh no.
Eris was hoping he’d work it out and, also, was a little curious as to watch his thought process with something like this. It went quicker than she anticipated, to be honest. She thought he might brood for a couple days over it.
She takes a drink from her glass, sitting it down on the table.
“I care about you, too, Rat.” The pet name is said with what appears to be affection. She wants to ask ‘is that such a surprise’, but bites her tongue as she feels, perhaps, it is not the most appropriate time or comment to make.
“It is almost as if you have people who genuinely care about your stubborn ass.” That one feels more appropriate, and it’s said with a smidge of teasing.
Drifter is ready to have a verbal sparring match, as usual, or even a shouting fight, but Eris’ words leave him, yet again, speechless. His eyes widen and his skin pales to the point where passing out is probably in the cards.
“Y’...what?” he stammers, in utter disbelief, his hands shaking and fumbling for the coin that’s still lying prone on the apartment floor.
“...”
With both head and hands empty, he is, very much, starting to freak out.
Well.
Eris didn’t intend to break him, but she thinks she may have.
She starts gathering up some of the empty containers from the coffee table. “I did not stutter, nor did I mumble,” she says as she gets up to throw some of the trash away. “Besides, you said it first, no take-backsies.” An almost hilarious phrase coming from her, one she hopes will break the now-present awkwardness in the air.
The former Dregden, the current runner of an illegal gambling event that the Vanguard turns an eye away from, the man of many lives and then some, starts laughing.
Or wheezing. It is hard to tell.
His tone isn’t hysterical so that’s a good thing, but his body language is… well, frankly unreadable.
He finally picks up the coin his fingers hunger for, watches it cling to his calloused skin, how it moves across every groove and ridge that both the coin and he share, and then suddenly he flicks it in a scarily quick gesture in Eris’ direction.
When she’s distracted by it she finds him standing right next to her, having moved as swiftly as the coin.
“Prove it,” he says, his voice heavy and too close to her ear. Pay no attention to how the coin is suddenly between his fingers again.
It’s a challenge but it’s also a way out. An offer even. He’s giving her an opportunity to back away, to end this game, to let them both go back to whatever weird situation they had going on before.
Before it gets to be /too/ much.
As confident as he seems to be there’s still something about his voice that is almost… afraid? Worried?
Eris is, albeit briefly, distracted by the coin and when she returns her gaze to where he was, she squints (all three eyes) as she discovers he’s right next to her. Her expression, otherwise, is neutral.
A pause, then she leans in, far closer than either of them probably anticipated.
“I don’t kiss on the first date, Rat.”
Drifter hesitates; they’re both too close and he’s staring too intently at Eris. Before he can stop himself his right hand lifts to gently brush against her cheek, he’s smiling, oddly enough, and…
The door to the apartment opens as Danior strolls in, followed by Kailani, his hands carrying box upon box of leftovers.
“No sock on the door so it’s all good!” the Warlock calls out.
Drifter freezes in place then jerks back from Eris like his hand was on fire.
Eris does not stop him, nor swat him away, but those couple seconds are cut short when she hears the door open and just as quickly as Drifter jerks back, so does she.
Turning to throw away some of the boxes in the trash, she realizes she's no longer facing the trash and silently curses. It's fine. Nothing is weird here. She turns around 'casually' (or attempts to) and throws away the boxes in her hands as normally as she can manage.
"How was dinner?"
Yes, they're chatty, they'll ramble about their evening and absolutely not ask about anything awkward.
Drifter plots many ways to get back at the Warlock. Until then, he flops onto the couch, his demeanor switching to his usual, casual, nothing’s ever wrong mood.
“Aww, Chuckles, did ya have an issue with Kailani? She is picky.”
Danior shrugs then hefts up a large takeout box.
“Nah! It was fine! Got a lotta leftovers if you want some later.”
The Warlock pauses and glances back and forth between Eris and Drifter.
“...uhh…”
Kailani gives Drifter a confused look, “I am not picky! I just want to know what ingredients YOU use in your concoctions. Which, I think, given your history, is not an unexpected request.”
Eris leans against the counter and does NOT look at the Warlock when he glances between her and the Rat. Things are normal. Fine. Her face is not slightly red. She’s just had a little wine. IT’S FINE.
Danior slowly, calmly, heads into the kitchen. Leftovers are put into the fridge and he immediately exits back out.
“Hey, I got a new sword you might think is really kickass!” he stammers towards Kailani as he tries to shove her back out the door.
Kailani is easily shoved by Danior, if slightly confused. She hasn’t caught the glances yet, since she was bitching at Drifter. But it’s not hard to distract her and the two do make it back out the door.
Eris rubs her face with both hands. “Oh my god.”
Danior, once he has Kailani outside the apartment, turns back for a second to grin and give the other two a thumbs up.
“Yeah, this sword makes things explode, and things around things explode too!” he can be heard babbling as he shuts the door behind him.
Drifter looks, well, not quite mortified, but he’s clearly not in his usual smarmy mindset. He pointedly avoids looking at Eris and remains settled on the couch, coin back in hand as he tries to bleed off some anxious energy.
“Well. That was quite enough normalcy for the night, I think,” Eris says
One brow quirks and, after a couple seconds, Drifter starts laughing.
“That was normal t’you, Moondust? Wait, no, I can see how it would be.”
He gets to his feet and walks over to her, tucking his coin away somewhere, and smiles.
“At least let me escort ya to th’door, like the gentleman I am.”
Eris laughs a little, “Yes. That was deeply normal in comparison,” she says. “Almost refreshing, even.”
“‘Gentleman’?” Her expression looks as though she’d be raising an eyebrow. “Oh, do you have to get your quota in before the end of the quarter?” Diffusing some of the tension in the air, hopefully.
“Hey! I can be damn courteous… is that th’word, when I wanna be!”
Drifter glowers at her but he’s still smiling, just a little, and he holds his right arm out to her.
“Plus someone’s gotta make sure y’don’t offend anyone on your way back to your Moon hovel…”
“Yes, that’s the word,” she confirms, looking at his offered arm briefly. She hooks her own through his. “It is not a Moon hovel, it is a Moon home, thank you.”
Drifter takes a moment to clear his throat but when her arm loops through his, there’s no denying the toothy smile he’s sporting.
“A home? Nah, y’need more stuff to liven it up! You live like a monk,” he teases while escorting her towards the door and even opening it for her.
“So, uh… thank you. This was a fun night.”
He sounds… shy, almost, the expression on his face is one of flustered apprehension. Several seconds later he also remembers where his arm is and he moves to slide it free, to let Eris go, but he seems hesitant to do such.
Still, he relents, and moves away from her.
“Goodnight, Moondust.” His tone is unusually soft despite the gruff nature of his voice, and the look he gives her is one of longing.
![[D2] someone's going on a date, i wonder who - Starkzilla, obliviousally (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)