notsogroovy: (Blue: Tear)
notsogroovy ([personal profile] notsogroovy) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet 2016-06-07 02:14 am (UTC)

Sorry it took so long. I was at work and got swamped. Also...sorry for the tl;dr.

Raven was well aware of that particular look that Charles got when she flirted with someone or went on a date. Sometimes, she half-suspected that was the reason she continued to go on dates. She'd never found anyone other than Charles that she felt she could trust enough to be her true self around, so it was mostly done to see that look he got. She was grasping, she knew, because he probably just thought she was still too young to date. She still looked like a teenager and he tended to treat her like one with him being the overbearing older brother.

But tonight was different. Tonight she'd gone on a date with a man who wasn't one of Charles' academics. He was a military man and he'd been one of her customers. They'd flirted for weeks before he'd finally asked her out. She'd been so excited that she'd flipped through outfit after outfit, mimicking the kinds of things she's seen over the years in fashion magazines, before finally settling on something.

And the date had gone well. At first. They'd discussed the scene of the town and how pompous academics could be. But then things took a turn when he'd asked about her accent. Apparently he'd been there when Charles had shown up one day to pick her up and noticed the difference. The accent led to questions about her past and that's when things started spiralling downhill. How could she explain that she'd grown up in the United States and that her parents - not that she could remember them - hadn't been the wealthy English with proper accents that Charles' had been. There were some things - most things - that she couldn't say.

The date ended early, but Raven ended up going home late, in part because she spent most of the time walking and feeling sorry for herself and in part because she didn't want to have to deal with Charles' sympathetic looks. But eventually she knew she'd have to face him. She made her way for the kitchen first, pulling out two glasses and a decanter of some unidentifiable alcohol. Carrying these, she went to where she knew she'd find Charles, providing he hadn't decided a trip to the pub was in order: his office. He was there, of course he was. Waiting up for her, probably. Wordlessly, she put the glasses on the table and poured a healthy amount for each of them. Maybe he'd force her to drink cola at the bar, but after tonight she deserved a drink.

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