Mimosas At Three

Cast: date: '30 August 2012'
place: 'Cafe in Soho'
participants: 'Gideon, Rose'
synopsis: 'Gideon calls Rose and the two of them cobble together a date of sorts.'
log: "It's been a day and a half since Rose (sort of) rescued a little boy, punted a turtle and got asked out for drinks at an unspecified date. There's been no contact from Gideon since then, but now Rose's cell phone rings with an unknown, local number.\n\n\nIn the tiny trundle of a sleeping space at the back of The Mystery Machine, Rose rolls over and flails blindly for the tiny TARDIS blaring the Doctor Who theme music. This, of course, being her phone. She manages to flick and poke at the screen in such a way that the call connects, but that might be purely coincidental. Sitting up in bed, she squints at the screen, then lifts the phone to her ear. \"Oi,\" she rasps, scrubbing a hand over her eyes and through her hair.\n\n\n\"It's three in the afternoon,\" a calm tenor on the other end of the line points out. \"Did I wake you?\"\n\n\n\"More'r less,\" says Rose, making no apologies or explanations for her sleeping habits. There's the dry, metallic rasp of a lighter being employed.\n\n\n\"In which case I suppose you're more in the mood for coffee than drinks. Tomorrow night, then? I'll ring you an noon, instead, make sure you've been awake long enough to properly appreciate an evening out.\"\n\n\nThere's a low chuckle. \"Oh, my, aren't we particular. Carpe diem, Mr. Parish.\" She climbs out of bed and stretches long, cigarette dangling from her lips. \"I can jolly well drink when my body thinks it's breakfast. That's what mimosas're for.\"\n\n\n\"Well,\" Gideon murmurs over the phone, his voice sounding bemused, \"mimosas it is. There's a place in Soho that makes especially good ones and serves breakfast all day.\"\n\n\nThere's a wide grin in her voice when she replies, \"That sounds quite close to perfect. Text me the addy and I'll meet you there in an hour? Or are you going to be a gentleman and pick me up?\"\n\n\n\"Well, if you'll be a lady and tell me where you live,\" Gideon counters, a smile in his voice, \"then I'll be a gentleman and come and fetch you.\"\n\n\n\"Right now? Parking lot of the Hollow Tree Hostel, Bloomsbury. I won't be hard to find.\" She exhales a drag of her cigarette. \"See you shortly?\"\n\n\n\"The Hollow Tree,\" Gideon repeats with a faint frown, though frowns thankfully don't carry over telephone lines. \"I know it. See you soon.\" He hangs up and that's all there is for about twenty minutes. After which there's the growl of a motorcycle as it vrooms into the parking lot, taking a thoughtful tour around the vehicles there though, really, it's not to hard to guess which one belongs to Rose. The engine stops outside the Mystery Machine and then there's a rap-rap-rap on the side door. Outside, Gideon's perched on a Harley in jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. He's got a spare helmet hooked under one arm.\n\n\nAnd said door opens, with Rose all ready to go — bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, looking fairly lovely in an outlandish, geeky way. Her dress is a halter-back swing-cut affair complete with crinolines — it is, however, made from what appear to be bed sheets. Star Wars bedsheets, to be exact*. Her hair is all piled up under an adorable newsboy cap, charming tendrils escaping it in a way that's assuredly on purpose. She has a black hoodie zip-up, unzipped, thrown over the dress and a satchel slung across her body. The satchel doesn't quite represent the level of preparedness implied by her duffel bag at the park, but it's not far off. She seems to favor converse, wearing them again today, though with legwarmers.\n\n\"And he tools up on a chopper,\" Rose narrates her greeting, grinning wide. \"Aren't we both sexy and mysterious.\"\n\n\n* (Dress: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1FUCyb2Xb3g/SwndqifGhtI/AAAAAAAAAJg/fpzjK9-9udE/s1600/dressBnewBhope.jpg)\n\n\n\"Why, yes we are,\" Gideon allows, offering Rose a bright white grin that, were this a television show, would surely *ping*. \"And don't you look…\" his blue-grey eyes travel over Rose from her newsboy cap down to her Converse shoes, taking careful note of all the bits in between, \"…exceptional. Catch, girl guide.\" Which is all the warning Rose has before the helmet is tossed, light and underhand, over to her.\n\n\n\"'Exceptional'…\" Rose muses, dimples droll and deep. \"That's not bad for starters.\" She catches the helmet with ease, fitting it over her head, cap and all.\n\n\n\"Can hardly ask for more.\" Gideon scoots forward, making the back of the seat more available for Rose to climb on. He waits until she does before kicking the bike awake and taking off out of the hostel parking lot. He zips along the streets, making his way towards Soho.\n\n\nRose might be a little nervous about the bike — she wraps her arms around him tight, pressed to his back, thighs squeezing his hips. Or not. Perhaps not at all. For there's only delight in her voice when she speaks near his ear, over the wind and engine: \"How fast can you make this thing go?\"\n\n\n\"Depends on how much I fancy being chased by the police,\" Gideon answers with a grin, \"how fast do you want to go?\" He takes a sharp turn, making the bike tip to the right to manage it, so they can head down another street and get ever closer to the promised mimosas.\n\n\nShe clings closer as she bike tips, laughing and emitting a little shriek. \"Chased is one thing. Caught is another. Can you outrun them?\"\n\n\n\"Of course I can,\" Gideon answers loftily, or as loftily as one can manage when they're shouting against the wind, \"but what about your mimosa? It'll have to be one or the other.\"\n\n\n\"Bollocks,\" sighs Rose. Choosing is no fun. \"I am starving.\" And mimosas are delicious. \"Show me after!\" she suggests. Sod either/or. Let's just talk 'when.'\n\n\nGideon laughs and then falls quiet to drive. There's certainly a bit of showing off with a couple more hairpin turns and some flashy swerves that could have been done just as easily without leaving a bunch of agitated motorists honking after them. Then they're in Soho, that blend of rich and poor, posh and racy. He parks the bike near the curb outside of a cafe that seems to be somewhere in between. A bit finer than one would go if they were trying to save pennies, but not so snooty a man in a leather jacket and a woman in a Star Wars dress would be turned out.\n\n\nRose swings off the bike effortlessly, pulling off her helmet and fixing her cap. Her cheeks are pink, her dark eyes all the darker for her wide dilated pupils; she chews the corner of her bottom lip with a besotted grin. For his bike. Totally the look of a woman in lust — and it's unquestionably for the bike. \"So,\" she drawls, taking his arm, \"does your friend have a name?\"\n\n\nGideon blinks over at Rose, letting her take his arm, though he's frowning a little. \"No,\" he replies, \"and I'm glad. I think if it did, you'd ditch me and have a drink with the bike.\"\n\n\n\"Don't be silly,\" says Rose, favoring Gideon with a charming smile. \"Bikes don't drink.\"\n\n\nHe squints one eye shut as he peers over at his date for the afternoon. But there's no real way to argue with that, so Gideon doesn't. Instead, he walks up to the hostess's stand and requests a table for two. The interior is the sort of grungy-posh that only areas like Soho can get away with. Bricks peering out of the painted walls, beaten brass tables and all sorts of art hanging ranging from pulpy paintings of the 1950s to black and white photographs of dog paws. They're led over to a little table by a window and given a pair of menus. \"Anything to drink?\" the girl asks, chirpily.\n\n\n\"A pitcher of mimosa,\" sighs Rose, eyeing the menu rapaciously. \"And by then I should have worked out all I want — or perhaps that I simply want all the things.\"\n\n\n'All the things' are very welcome words if you work in a restaurant, and the girl grins and jots down the order before flitting off again. Gideon peruses his menu slowly. \"I think your eyes may be bigger than your stomach,\" he teases. \"Are you just come to London?\"\n\n\n\"That's entirely possible,\" agrees Rose. Not that it's probably going to influence her order, this knowledge. She sets her menu down and props her chin in her hand, studying the man across the table. \"Just come again, I suppose? I've been before. Most places twice, in fact. Lots of moving about.\" She picks up a spoon and examines it, giving the bowl of the implement a good rubbing with her thumb. \"Looks like I'll be here for a while, though. Guess it's home now, whatever that means.\"\n\n\n\"Suppose that's what happens when your house is a microbus,\" Gideon agrees pragmatically. \"How did London manage to get your interest, then? New job? Staring school?\"\n\n\n\"Family obligation,\" Rose supplies. \"Though I'll probably need a job, come to think of it. What about you?\" She raises an eyebrow. \"Lifelong Londoner?\"\n\n\n\"Pretty much, yeah,\" Gideon agrees with a small nod. \"Not sure I like it here, but I'd like it less anywhere else so I suppose London's still home.\" He shrugs, and then with a smirk, adds, \"Ever considered the fashion industry?\"\n\n\nRose gapes and gasps, laughing. \"Cheeky bugger. I'll have you know this dress is the most smashing dress in the entire world. They wouldn't let me in to Kate and Wil's wedding in this because they knew I'd show up Kate and Pippa's arse, too.\"\n\n\n\"I am sure that's exactly why they wouldn't let you in,\" Gideon agrees, somber and straight-faced. And then, oh look, a pitcher of mimosa and two dainty champagne flutes to pour them into. \"Figure out what you're eating, you bottomless thing. She'll want our order in a minute.\"\n\n\n\"I have a bottom, you lout, and I'm all manner of put out you've yet to notice.\" Hrmph. She looks studiously at her menu. \"Rare steak, eggs over light, wheat toast, and bacon so crisp it falls apart when you touch it. No soggy bits.\" The menu is returned to the server with a big, lovely smile. \"And black pudding.\"\n\n\n\"That's not a bottom,\" Gideon replies, \"That's an ass, and who says I haven't noticed.\" He smirks over at Rose before taking a sip of his mimosa and nodding. \"Really do make them the best, here.\" To the server, he adds, \"Scrambled eggs with cheese, sausage links and hashbrowns. And toast. None of the pudding.\"\n\n\nRose flashes him a dimpled grin over a sip of mimosa. \"So,\" she leans in on her elbows, all eyelashes and feminine wiles. \"Tell me about you.\"\n\n\n\"I'm charming and mysterious,\" Gideon replies, leaning in as well and mimicking Rose's posture. \"I ride a very sexy bike. I enjoy sitting on benches in the park. Tell me about you.\"\n\n\n\"Bikes are like cocks — the sexy is in how you ride it,\" drawls Rose, sipping her drink again. \"I'm a Pisces. I laugh very loudly. I shout when I get excited. I sing in public. And since Pisces are supposed to be sweet, introverted, and easily led, I'm probably adopted.\" She smirks. \"Your turn.\"\n\n\n\"Not if your aunt's a nutter. That's clearly an inherited trait. Anyhow, you shouldn't put too much stock in astrology, it's all bunk,\" Gideon counters, pausing to sip from his mimosa. \"I've lived in London pretty much all my life, I prefer tea to coffee. I don't like hospitals or grape jam.\"\n\n\n\"I'm from Inverary, but I've lost the accent. Creeps back when I've had enough to drink,\" Rose offers in kind. \"I don't fancy grape jam, either, but I'm mad about things grape flavored. Like ring pops and sodas. I have one tattoo, and one piercing.\"\n\n\n\"I haven't any of either,\" Gideon says, \"but now I'm very curious as to where that tattoo and piercing are, because I can see quite a lot of you but…\" one blond brow quirks. \"Keep drinking, I'd like to hear that accent. I'd just rather actual grapes, all things considered. Though if we're talking fruits, I'll have strawberries or peaches.\"\n\n\n\"Mmm,\" says Rose, draining her mimosa. \"Cherries for me. Not the red kind in pies or the silly, pickled little bastards you find in drinks and on ice cream. Black cherries.\" She sighs happily. \"There's nothing sweeter. We had a black cherry tree when I was little. I'd climb up and eat them until I was ill.\"\n\n\n\"Maraschino cherries,\" Gideon answers for the silly, bright red sort. \"They used to be made by being preserved in cherry liqueur. Likely tasted better, then.\" He has another sip before picking up the pitcher and refilling Rose's glass, now it's been drained. \"You know, I'm not at all surprised you climbed tree. What other ill-advised childhood games did you play?\"\n\n\n\"All of them,\" replies Rose, smirking and getting back to drinking readily. \"And made up a few, to boot. I had older brothers. Doing anything they could do, better, was generally my life's mission.\" She studies Gideon with a languid smile. \"What do you do for a living? What do you wish you did for a living?\"\n\n\n\"Competitive little mite, weren't you,\" Gideon muses. He has another swallow which put him at half a mimosa to Rose's one and change. \"I do damage control. When someone's made a right mess of something and needs to set it right, they contact me. Sort of a freelance PR specialist with a focus on subverting social disaster. What do I wish I did?\" He thinks a moment and shrugs. \"That show with the fellow who goes about in a blue box, anywhere he wants. Since we're wishing, I'd take that. You?\"\n\n\nRose quite nearly snarfs mimosa out her nose. She covers her nose and mouth as she choke-laughs in astonishment. \"Shut the fuck up,\" she laughs, simply beaming at him. \"It's called a TARDIS — Time And Relative Dimensions In Space — but you're completely forgiven not knowing the specifics. That's easily the best answer ever.\" Bubbling more than the champagne, the goes on, \"The Doctor is positively my favorite thing in the world. Since we're wishing, I'd be a companion. Not — \" she points out, since he'd know, \" — the Firefly kind. The Doctor's companions are different.\"\n\n\n\"It has a name?\" Gideon asks, his mouth lifting in a smile at Rose's delight. He considers a moment then nods. \"Well, it was a ship, wasn't it, so I suppose it would. Go on, then. How are they different?\"\n\n\n\"Well, probably most importantly, the Doctor's companions aren't highly skilled, guild-affiliated courteseans,\" says Rose. And, as she finishes her second mimosa on an empty stomach, there's a bit of a Scots burr creeping into her speech, indeed. \"Not that he'd probably not take a prostitute on, if he saw something remarkable in her.\" She shrugs, smiling an easy and dreamy kind of smile. \"That's really just the thing, though. He's ancient, alien, and incomprehensibly powerful. They — the friends and family is chooses along the way — they humanize him. They're these fragile, remarkable, finite things — but they're always astonishing him, and he loves them to pieces.\"\n\n\n\"And if you were wishing, you'd rather be fragile, finite and astonishing than ancient, alien and incomprehensibly powerful?\" Gideon asks quizzically. \"Because I'd take the power, the ship and the pretty young thing, though I doubt I'd keep it all as chaste as he did.\"\n\n\nRose shrugs again, smiling with a hint of wry nostalgia. \"We're all fragile and finite. But astonishing — seemed like it might be tantalizingly within reach.\" She laughs and grins wide, shaking her head. \"Truly, you'd be the Doctor's first lothario incarnation.\"\n\n\n\"Had to get 'round to it eventually, don't you think?\" Gideon asks with a winning smile. \"A man who wants to experience everything in the universe, and from what I've seen, never managed more than a kiss? It'd be an act of mercy.\" He swallows down the rest of his glass, filling it up and them topping Rose's off. At which point their plates of breakfast-at-four-in-the-afternoon arrive.\n\n\n\"Oh, fantastic — I could eat everything in sight,\" Rose raptures, draining her third glass in a few long swallows. Because. Uhm. You can only put the glass down if it's empty. It's a rule. And she needs her hands to make a delicious hash of eggs and steak and blood pudding.\n\n\nHey, it's a rule Gideon does not dislike, and he politely fills Rose's glass again before tucking into his own meal. Chewing and swallowing down a bite of cheesy egg and hashbrowns, he asks, \"How do you eat that?\" There's a small nod towards the blood pudding. Or, well, where it was before it joined the mash.\n\n\n\"How do Scots eat anything? We're revolting,\" Rose explains, cheerfully. She shovels the meat-and-egg-and-yuck into her mouth, lidding her eyes as she chews and swallows. \"Sweet baby Jesus Christmas Tree, that is so good.\"\n\n\n\"Little bit,\" Gideon agrees with a small shake of his head that anything that has 'blood' and 'pudding' as literal descriptors can produce such a pleasurable response in anyone. A bit less demonstrative himself, Gideon never-the-less makes good work of his meal, tucking it away with enough speed to suggest he's equally pleased with his order.\n\n\n\"This,\" Rose approves with rosy-cheeked bonhomie, \"was a brilliant idea. Good on you!\" She raises her glass in salute. \"Well done, wot.\" Toodle pip! Drinky!\n\n\nHis smirk is small and bemused, but gentle, as he lifts his own glass and sips from it, watching Rose over the rim. \"I think,\" he points out after he polishes off the last bit of sausage and toast on his plate, \"you're pissed.\"\n\n\n\"Nonsense. I only see one of you.\" Brave Rose drinks on, then returns her attention to her plate with great contentment and appreciative eating sounds.\n\n\nGideon, he is not complaining. Though, as he's obliged to drive a motorcycle after they eat, he's also not refilling his own glass. He nudges his empty plate away, leaning back into his seat with a deep sigh. \"You never told me what you do for a living, you know.\"\n\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\" asks Rose, smirking and settling back herself. \"I cadge off mysterious men with sexy bikes.\" She tilts her head and glances sidelong, quizzical. \"Wait. No. Sexy men with mysterious bikes?\" An airy hand waves to dismiss the quandary. \"Something like that.\"\n\n\n\"Do you?\" Gideon asks, one brow lifting. \"I could see that as a hobby, but I'm not sure how well it pays, besides getting you the odd afternoon breakfast.\"\n\n\n\"Such an odd breakfast,\" Rose agrees, dimples flashing. \"Law enforcement. Would you buy fashion police?\" She lifts an eyebrow, putting on a winsome Trust Me smile. \"Currently undercover. Obviously.\"\n\n\n\"Um,\" Gideon considers, looking Rose over again, \"Perhaps. If you were under cover. Wait.\" His eyes narrow and he leans forward. \"Am I under suspicion? Was it the wifebeater I had on last Thursday? Because Thursday was laundry day, you see. I was desperate.\"\n\n\n\"We're aware,\" says FDI (that's FASHION Detective Inspector) Rose. \"There's corroborating footage of you at the laundry. Still.\" She sips her mimosa. \"We've decided to continue our surveillance for a time. Just to make sure there's no spandex.\"\n\n\n\"Fuck,\" Gideon mutters with a scowl. \"I'd been so careful about the spandex. Someone must had tipped you off.\" His eyes narrow again as he strokes his jaw thoughtfully. \"But, who…\"\n\n\n\"Someone with access to your drawers, I should think.\" Rose entendres, smirking.\n\n\nGideon scowls as he considers. \"Why that little minx,\" he murmurs, \"and she said she only wanted a t-shirt to sleep in after her shower. Well, then. I'll have a 't-shirt' for her when I see her next.\" Gideon considers a moment. \"Nope. No. 'T-shirt' doesn't make a proper euphemism for anything.\"\n\n\nRose quickly puts a hand over her nose and mouth as she chokes a giggle. \"No,\" she concurs, grinning. \"No, it doesn't. But the attempt was adorable.\"\n\n\n\"Ad-…\" Gideon leans back a little as if Rose had just spit in his general direction. \"See here, miss. The spandex is one thing, but there's no call to get nasty. Adorable is for kittens and a little, porcelain dolls. Not for men with aspirations to… well. Surely there's some other word that suits better.\"\n\n\n\"Mm-hm. Do share what you're aspiring to, then, and I'll suggest a better adjective.\" She gives him a come-hither, bedroom look through her lashes. \"I'm a veritable thesaurus.\" Who knew Roget was sexy?\n\n\n\"Well, a look like that is a very good start,\" Gideon murmurs, leaning back forward over his empty plate. \"Should you like to order dessert, or shall we slip out and see what else the day holds?\"\n\n\nRose drains her glass again. Waste not, want not! \"Couldn't possibly eat another bite,\" she murmurs, elbows on the table again, leaning in. \"Let's go have dessert.\"\n\n\nHis smile is slow and full of wicked promise as he fishes a few bills out of his wallet and drops them on the table. The waitress can sort what's owed and what's tip. Standing, Gideon holds out a hand to help Rose up in proper, gentlemanly fashion."

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