bakerstreet | p.s. i still love you

[ The best trope. ]

[good luck trying to date this guy.]

It began with an observation from Eames about the mark. How had he phrased it? Not trauma, or rather, not recent trauma, but a lingering discomfort with unpaired straight men. That was why the interest in couples; they were safer. But it was Ariadne who'd pointed out, eminently reasonably, that they were the two with the longest established working relationship.

"We'll never get anywhere unless the bait is believable," she told him, eyes wide and innocent. She's good at that, but he knows her well enough to see that there's something else. She's on one of her crusades.

And, alright, he knows what she knows from that place. And maybe he hasn't been forthcoming about any developments in his and Eames's relationship. Sharing intimate details of his relationship with colleagues isn't his brand.

Which is why they're here now. A mark with a preference toward joining established, committed couples for the night. A particularly feisty coworker who, Arthur knows from experience, will ruthlessly exploit the mark and his own romantic past, if she thinks it will spark some sort of reconnection.

It's not that he and Eames can't play a convincing couple. It's not even the first time they've had to run this particular con (although they've never tried to pull a third participant before.) But he's got absolutely no idea how they're supposed to play this unconvincingly enough that the truth won't be obvious to the whole team. And that's saying nothing of Eames's jealous streak, which has never been a problem when it was all fake, but Arthur is very concerned might be a problem now. With Ariadne, too perceptive by half, watching all of it.

Fuck.

Eames, on the other hand, was delighted by all this. Sure, he could tell it was making Arthur squirm (and that Ariadne was far too invested in the ruse), but that didn't make it any less fun for him. Oh, he was already dreaming of all the pet names he could lay out, the sweet affections he'd be able to get away with as 'all part of the job'.

Of course, he would have to try not to make the team too suspicious of them, but he would have the easier time at that, he was sure. When wasn't he screamingly flirtatious with Arthur, after all?

"So, how shall we play this, do you think?" he asks Arthur idly when they're in the warehouse alone, smiling idly and leaning back in his chair. "Lovey-dovey, bickering like old married couple, comfortably partnered, all of the above?"

They’re in the warehouse alone. Since Eames’s capture, since their week together at the resort, Arthur has let his guard down at moments like these. A quick stolen kiss, a gentle touch to his wrist — Arthur will never be truly demonstrative with affection. But his walls are lower now, for Eames. They still don’t fuck, most jobs they’re both on. More because of schedules not aligning and general busyness than Arthur’s pathological fear of discovery. A little, maybe, because Arthur loves the moment of release when they’re riding the high from a completed job, when he hasn’t had Eames’s hands on him for weeks, when waiting even another minute is impossible. He no longer insists they keep separate rooms — who would notice where they sleep, after all. And in the stretches between, they have moments like these, quiet interludes where they’re alone together, surrounded by the hum of the sleeping PASIV, and they can relax for a heartbeat.

And Eames is laughing about it. Asshole.

“You’re the expert in people, Mr. Eames. What does our mark seek out in a pairing?” Arthur’s voice is casual enough that if any of the team came back now, they might be worried about a homicide. Only the softness when he says Eames’s name belies anything but irritation with the state of the job.

"Our mark seeks reassurance. Security. Signs of stability," he muses, the grin never leaving his face, even as his voice falls into the easy patter of someone discussing a job he's good at. Arthur might think him the asshole, but his delight in this is genuine. All too often, their work keeps them apart, forcing a professional facade when they do have time to interact, and then filling all of that time with work when he's all too greedy to spend that time thoroughly enjoying Arthur's company. Is it so wrong of him to savor it openly, really?

"What she wants is the unwavering belief that we are entirely devoted to each other and have no interest in her or, worse, in harming her," he says, a tad more seriousness in his voice. "But the truth is there are so many flavors to settled couple-dom -- or so I'm told. And while I know what I can sell, I would love to hear what my husband-to-be feels comfortable with in his approach."

Husband. Arthur rolls his eyes, making sure its visible to Eames and anyone else small or named Ariadne who's probably sneaking around somewhere. (He'd like to think he'd know, but better to cover his bases.)

As if the idea of husband is totally ridiculous, when they both know there's a thin band of leather neatly obscured behind the points of his collar, resting flat at the very base of his throat.

"No interest in her, but enough interest to sleep with her," Arthur reminds him. That's part of it, right? From what they can tell, she doesn't go for fast hookups. She gets to know couples first, gets settled with them, and then it becomes physical. Sometimes it lasts one night, sometimes weeks or months, but there's always a lead up. Not one to hop into bed at the first sign of interest, their mark.

Which means they're going to have to maintain this ruse for a while, without tipping their hand that it is a ruse. All while Ariadne watches like a hawk for signs of reconciliation.

"What I'm comfortable with is a first class ticket to another hemisphere." Not alone, necessarily, but definitely sans architect."Barring that, I really don't know. I'd like to be as efficient as possible with all this." Not have to carry the ruse as long.

Edited 2020-08-25 04:02 (UTC)

"A ticket to somewhere warmer does sound appealing," he muses, that flicker of mischief still in his eyes. "Perhaps that can be the reward for a job well done."

Leaning back in his chair, he closes his eyes a moment, letting his more-professional tone slip back in. "A woman who wants a stable couple to play with -- who is investing time into her hookups, getting truly in tune with them -- isn't one who wants a pair of randy honeymooners. She wants a pair who are solid, a pair who won't shatter apart at the idea of polyamory."

With a slight smile, he says, "She wants, more than anything, two people with a history -- something you and I can provide quite well, darling."

"Better do the job well, then, first." Arthur's lips quirk in response to that mischief, and its small, but he doesn't imagine Eames missed it. Eames is the master of microexpressions, and he doesn't miss much.

"Even if we don't have the history she's looking for?" It's not entirely untrue. The team, if they're listening, will (ideally) assume Arthur means a romantic history. But Eames is talking about stability. As good, as secure as they are now, it hasn't always been like that. And, while they played a bit at the resort, where they both felt comfortable and anonymous, true polyamory is something they've both expressed discomfort with. Eames, especially. Arthur clearly remembers his reticence to share with someone who could pose a threat. Exactly what their mark isn't going to want.

"Well, with that as my motivation, I think I can certainly do my very best," he teases, lips curling slightly more. His eyes don't miss that flash of a smile, which sings out Arthur's true mood as if he'd written it in poster board. Or perhaps that's only true for him, who's always done his best to be in sync with his lover's quirks.

"We have a history, just not the exact one she'll think we have," he says with a slight shrug, not seeming concerned in the slightest about that aspect of it. "Which is more important than just striding up after memorizing a list of false facts about it each other. History comes across in much more subtle ways, in the easiness of two people around each other and the way they share a language between themselves. Which we have in spades, by the way."

"Oh, do we?" Arthur's voice is slow and dry, but there's still that hint of a smile curving the corner of his lips. "I suppose our history will be just too convincing then, won't it?"

In truth, that's what he's concerned about. He knows Ariadne views this deception as a way to get them back together, which makes things... awkward. It's not that he's exactly trying to keep their relationship secret. He just doesn't want to advertise it to the entire dreamshare community. "Private" and "Secret" aren't the same, right?

"Well. No time like the present, I guess. We should start making ourselves visible to her."

"We very much do," he says with a wicked grin. "I imagine she's going to want to eat us up with a spoon with our convincing level of camaraderie."

Which is probably part of the problem, he realizes, since he is aware of how much Arthur would prefer to keep things entirely private. It bothers Eames a great deal less on its own, but it bothers him as something that bothers Arthur. And it would be so unromantic to double-fake their own coupledom with Arthur so terribly anxious

"I imagine we should. Any particular ideas on where we'll make ourselves visible?"

If someone asked -- Dom, or Ariadne, someone he trusted -- he wouldn't lie to them. He just doesn't see how it's anyone's business what he and Eames do together in their spare time. And they've already been used against each other, more than once. People have tried to use their relationship to shame them, or to hurt one of them through the other. It's not even that they're that under the radar, anymore. He just doesn't want to fan the flames anymore. And maybe he likes having some things that are just between the two of them, and not for public consumption.

"At one of the bars she trolls, I imagine, you've already followed her there. And one of the dating apps she uses." He's dug up her history. He knows which ones she checks most frequently and which profiles she responds to. Despite being picky, she's not shy, he can't accuse her of that. "Maybe you should put up a profile for us. I can show you the type she likes. I trust you to craft something to her preferences."

Arthur says this all perfectly straightforwardly, as if he isn't dying, a little bit, at the idea of an internet dating profile with one or both their pictures on it. He has access to all the databases to get her messages; he'll delete the profile without issue. But nothing on the internet dies forever. They both know that. "But if you really think she'll be that enamored by the two of us just existing in the same space, maybe that isn't necessary."

Eames muses on that thought a moment, weighing their options. He has the same concerns as Arthur about the idea of an Internet profile, because God knows the Internet is its own can of worms in every way. But he also knows what's probably the norm for any kink-friendly couple looking for a third, especially when they'll eventually be trying to pair up with a stranger.

"I admit, I'm leaning towards the idea of including some sort of a profile," he says, clearly still mulling it over. "I don't entirely love the idea, but it would sell the whole thing a lot more simply. If she's already someone looking for some level of security, having some sort of digital 'proof' might make her less likely to be concerned about us."

"If you're able to handle the content, I can make sure she sees it."

He has all her app data in the file already, it's how they got here. Arthur's experience is, the more secure a net company boasts about their information being, the easier it is to access their database and manipulate their algorithm. It shouldn't be difficult to flag his and Eames's profile to match with hers, and hopefully, minimize any other matches until the job is done and he can scrub any record of it from the internet.

"It wouldn't be outside her normal pattern, if she sees it and responds. And it would speed things up considerably. We'd just need to make it convincing, but that's your lane."

"Oh, never you worry about the content," he says with a slightly cheekier grin. "Among my many pools of knowledge, kink-friendly dating profiles just happens to be one. I'm sure I can craft something sufficiently intriguing for her tastes."

Let it never be said that he didn't know how to use the Internet for his own purposes, whether they be professional, or, in the past, romantic. Not that he particularly missed that aspect of his pre-Arthur lifestyle. The Internet was, after all, its own form of surreal wilderness.

"After that, all we need to use is our own personal wiles to truly seal the deal. But I have quite a great deal of faith in our respective abilities to be charming, don't you?" he says, lightly teasing.

[ spy shenanigans would be amazing. ]

[/quietly adds another Arthur bc this is my favorite meme.]

It was a deceptively simple job, one that the two of them could pull off on their own, as long as they had a contact on the mainland to get the information to once they had it. Which, thanks to Ariadne, they did.

They also had an entire ten-day window to pull it off in, something that would take maybe ten minutes start to finish. Which meant they were going to have a lot of down time on what was, apparently a couples cruise. Eames wasn't entirely sure how this had escaped his notice, and suspected that it was simply down to the fact that it had never been advertised as such, and the activities calendar -aside from port excursions- had been unavailable until they'd checked in.

It was also at least partly his fault for not verifying that a double-occupancy stateroom actually had two beds, because this one did not, and his only comment, pushing the door closed behind them so that he could stash his suitcase in the closet was: "Not what I was expecting, but I'm sure we can still pull this off." He flashed Arthur a crooked smile and an only slightly-exaggerated wink, "What do you think, darling?" The epithet was pure tease and he was fully expecting to get one of Arthur's most withering glares in response.

And a withering look was exactly what Eames got. This was what happened when Arthur let someone else take responsibility for research. He looked balefully between the single bed and the man who had obviously only read the word 'cruise' on the website and considered his work done. Ariadne had convinced him that Eames was good at this. That he had to pay attention to detail as a Forger. That Arthur had to let other people carry their weight on things so he didn't do it all himself.

Yeah. Yeah, that was great advice. Glad he took it.

His own suitcase got tossed under the bed and Arthur crossed over to the small counter in the sitting area. There was a bottle of champagne chilling there and two glasses. Compliments of the cruise line to get their vacation off to a 'Sparkling Start'. Arthur opened it and poured his glass to the top before throwing it back and going for a refill. Only then did he trust himself to speak and say more than profanity.

"I think you're going to get real comfortable with the couch, over there," he said with a sarcastic 'cheers'. "Or the balcony. I don't mind either way but I'm only giving you one blanket so factor that into your decision."

"I know I sent you a copy of the booking information." He replied, "Where none of this was mentioned." It wasn't a jab when it very well could have been, because he wasn't the only one who hadn't known, but he wasn't going to dig at that at the moment, because he had done the research.

It was also a little concerning that none of this had been advertised anywhere, not even in the customer reviews, but that was one too many things to worry about at once, and so he'd chew that one over later.

Instead he just gave a loose-jointed shrug, "The couch is fine, I've had worse." They both had, but that was beside the point at the moment. He also didn't mind the couch because it put him at an angle to see anyone coming through the door before they saw him, which was the sort of advantage he preferred.

Arthur's head snapped around at the insinuation that he had missed something here. But it wasn't really the cutting comment he had expected it to be so he just rolled his eyes and picked up a piece of paper with a list of the day's activities to distract himself with. There were tons of options, each one for couples to enjoy together. His eyes narrowed a bit as he tried to deduce from his research what the mark might be interested in, first. Nothing that would make him unconscious for a span of time.

Arthur groaned a little and set it back down.

"The couch probably pulls out," he commented offhand. The door to the balcony had a child lock that was frustrating to undo with one hand. The decision to put his alcohol down or give up on going outside was a hard one to weigh. He sipped as he considered.

"I don't know how much sleeping we'll be doing, anyway. Work first."

"I'm sure it does." He replied, the same way he was sure there were spare blankets in the top shelf of the closet, and if not there, behind the spare towels in the cabinet. This wasn't his first rodeo.

The statement about the booking confirmation really hadn't been a jab, just pointing out the fact that neither of them had missed anything, just that there was no information given. For the moment he debated whether or not to help with the door, because when there was a break in the routine, or something unexpected -let alone two unexpected things of the caliber they were currently working with- Arthur became a wet cat, ready to swipe at anything that might possibly be a threat. But Eames knew he would settle again before long, they had a job to do after all.

Ultimately he decided to stay put, dropping down to sit on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles as he said: "According to our client, our mark's got two shore excursions planned, one at the first port and one at the last, though may pick up another at one of the other two in the middle." It helped that their client was their mark's wife, though that could potentially complicate things if they weren't careful.

Arthur finally got the door open and stood in the gateway, leaning against the frame. The breeze off the ocean was humid at this time of the year but comfortable. Arthur almost wanted to close his eyes and relax into it. Maybe even camp in one of those chairs and finish that bottle of champagne.

Work came first.

His hand slid into his jacket's inner pocket and out came his Moleskin. With practiced dexterity he flipped it open with a single hand to the notes he had for this job. He had them memorized but it was always good to have reminders. "The first port will probably be the best. The excursion is at a distillery and one of the selling points are the generous tastings provided."

He finished his glass and produced a pen out of fucking nowhere.

"You should go on that excursion as well. Last tasting, drop a sleeping agent into his drink. By the time he's back on the ship he'll be ready for a nice, long nap. Shouldn't even notice."

Putting him back on track with the task at hand was, Eames figured, one of the best ways to help soothe some of those ruffled feathers.

He nodded at the suggestion, "Already signed up." He'd figured it would be a good place to at least start getting chummy with their mark, make things easier regardless of when they actually did the bulk of the work.

"And the wife," their client, "Will be going to a spa treatment upon returning to the ship, so she can get ready for dinner in style, and on the way there she's going to misplace her keycard, quite unfortunately and entirely by accident." He tilted his head, almost a shrug, "Not the sort of thing that will cause too much fuss, but will delay her return just that much longer and also require new cards be coded." Which since they'd be well finished and packed up by then wasn't a concern.

There was also the fact that she wasn't actually going to lose it, but would be passing it off to Eames herself either after returning from the excursion or on her way to the spa. It wasn't normal for a client to be so involved with the process, but she knew the work, one of the few who'd actually retired from it on their own terms.

Arthur glanced up at Eames, impressed at the gumption but still in a sour enough mood to not say so. The man could probably tell though. He was infuriatingly good at tells like that, especially when they were complimentary to him.

"I'll get the card and meet you at the stateroom with the PASIV." Arthur didn't love the idea of them both being under and having no look out at all, but with the wife on board with the whole thing, the risks were minimal. In fact the whole job was simple and clean in a way they often didn't see. If the payout had been larger Arthur would have been suspicious but, as it was, it all checked out.

And it left them with a ton of extra time on this ship if things went right. Just them, together.

Arthur set the journal down and poured another glass for himself.

"Any other excursion you have planned?" Arthur hadn't bothered. "I'm sure it will come up at dinner so I should know if I'm meant to be your partner."

The fact that they'd both be under was Eames' least favorite part as well, but he figured between the relative simplicity of the job, the do-not-disturb tag on the door and two pre-set phone alarms they should be just fine even without an actual lookout.

The actual question had him arching a brow just a little, at least until the explanation followed and he shook his head, "No, there's better ways to see the world than via what's essentially a drive-by." That and most of them were overpriced for what was actually going on, "But I suppose if anyone asks, this is just a precursor to a longer trip later, fact-finding mission, as it were, deciding on somewhere we'd like to actually spend some time."

[OTA for silliness but open to just Nicky or Booker for shipping shenanigans.]

[A teenage AU based on the concept for The Patakis.

Helga is fifteen but willing to age up to eighteen if needed. Over the top and comical is a definite bonus. No smut please.]

[ probably more along the lines of fake courtship or fake arranged marriage but I'm open to modern settings/AUs. ]

Dick flashed a practiced smile at the cameras as he climbed out of the car, taking a moment to smooth out his jacket before turning back and offering his hand to help his companion to her feet.

This part he knows how to do, you smile politely and keep moving and pretend you simply can't hear anybody trying to ask you questions - because if you stop to actually answer any of them you'll never get inside. He still finds it ridiculous that any paparazzi are actually interested in him, the only reason he's famous is because his father is rich, not because of anything he's done. Well, that's not strictly true, he's also famous for the things he does, but in a very different way, and none of these people know about that part, of course.

At least this party might be slightly less dull than they usually are, given exactly why he's here.

Talk about being in uncharted territory. It was supposed to be easy enough: Invite to ridiculously nice party. Be paid no mind. Get as much info as possible. But when said invite doesn't show up, and Effie's left scrambling...

Well. Leave it to Dick Grayson to call himself for backup. Sort of.

Take his hand and smile like you mean it. Don't answer any questions you won't be able to hear, anyway. The flashes and lights are bright enough, and she can't imagine living her life like this. Her attire for the evening kind of makes up for it. She's honestly never felt prettier.

It's times like this Effie wishes she could lean over and whisper something to him, but it'll have to wait. A blonde entertainment reporter nearly dives in front of them, microphone shoved in Dick's face. "Pardon me, Dick, but who's this gorgeous lady on your arm?" Effie instinctively squeezes his hand, somehow succeeding in looking less surprised at the sudden appearance and more receptive.

Okay, so the pretending you couldn't hear got a little harder when they practically shoved themselves at you like that, but Dick is nothing if not determined, so he squeezes Effie's hand back and carefully steers the both of them around the woman with a pleasant smile in her direction.

"Ah, now that would be telling," he laughs as though they're sharing a secret and gives her a wink, whisking Effie a little further up the steps before she has chance to ask a follow up. The last thing he wants is Effie getting her name in the papers because of this - it's a risk, he knows that, but he's not going to help it along by actually telling them.

"Just keep walking, we're almost through" he signs to Effie with a grin.

Oh, relief. Effie is thy name, and Dick is your current hero. She smiles in thanks with a nod, fingers flying with her reply. "You're the best. I really have no idea how you do this all the time." She offers a silent laugh. "I'm exhausted and I've been here for ten minutes. Guessing it comes with the territory."

No doubt the news will be streaming with images of her and him, wondering who this silent mystery lady is. She's not really looking forward to that, but it is what it is.

"You have no idea what this means. Probably not how you wanted to spend your evening, but..." Effie grins sheepishly. "I owe you one."

By taking out his frustrations on criminals every night is the answer, but it's not one he's going to discuss where anybody could see - the likelihood of somebody who knows ASL seeing too much on one of these cameras was just too high, and Dick has had it utterly ingrained in him the lengths he ought to go to in order to keep his extra-curricular life a secret ever since he was a child.

"You get used to it" is what he says instead, since that was true too - another thing he's been working on since he was a child.

"It's fine, really, it's not exactly a hardship to spend the evening with a pretty girl" he teases

It's understandable. Keep it simple. Don't be obvious. Smile because you mean it.

His comment earns a bit of an eyeroll, a flush of freckled cheeks, and a gentle elbow. "I'm sure you say that to all the pretty people you spend evenings with." Not that Effie would blame him. It's a nice thing to be told.

"Thanks, though. It's not the worst feeling to be out with one of the World's Sexiest Men according to People magazine." A beat. "And maybe me and the group at the table to the right. I could tell you what the lady in red would like to do with you, but..."

Effie shrugs. "But that would be a little uncouth." And might possibly just ruin the moment. Whatever the moment wasn't supposed to be.

He can breathe a little easier once they're inside - no paparazzi here after all, though he knows there's plenty of gossips amongst the movers and shakers of the world, plenty of people who are going to want to know everything about Dick's latest date. He grins a little sheepishly at Effie's comment, he can't deny it's true after all - he's never lying, but he's always been a naturally flirtatious and flattering person and he does say that kind of thing to a lot of people. It's probably why he's picked up the same reputation that Bruce managed for being a bit of a womaniser.

"People magazine only wants me for my ass," Dick grins. Especially in spandex, apparently, since Nightwing had been higher on the list than Dick was. (The fact that he'd been on it twice had made him just a little smug when it came out.) "And so does the woman in red, I'm sure. At least you needed me for my connections" he jokes.

"'Need' and 'want' are two different things. But I can't lie." Effie pauses to allow the waiter to pour the what is likely to be an insanely expensive Pinot Grigio, mouthing a 'thank you' with a smile.

The brunette turns back to Dick and shrugs. "You're an incredibly handsome guy, it's true. Ass aside. But I'm not here to feed your ego. Red Dress, People, and the rest of the city provides plenty."

She sips her wine, pleased with the light heat and makes a note of crimson movement from the table on the right. Effie glances at Dick sidelong. "And it seems Red Dress is looking to do just that. Gird your loins?"

"Oh but I do so enjoy my ego being fed" Dick replies with a playful pout - it's not entirely untrue, he does rather like to be the centre of attention, call it vanity, narcissism, or just a throwback to his circus days, but he at least has the good grace to be self-aware about it.

"Yours too," he replies with a wink - she is supposed to be his date, after all, so he's going to have to drag her into this in order to keep up appearances. That's also why he doesn't actually turn to properly look at the approaching woman, even though he can see her out the corner of his eye, instead he appears to keep all his attention on Effie.

Red Dress isn't initially thrown off-guard, and one might get the idea that she's done this sort of thing before with an idea that she's clearly the better option between herself and the other woman (in this case, a woman who happens to be deaf). She actually looks exasperated when it seems Dick and Effie are enjoying each other's company, and stops her stride about a third of the way t the table.

No need to worry. One of them has to go to the bathroom at some point.

Funny how Dick's attention to Effie takes away the concern that she might be left high and dry by the man. It was all bullshit, right? Of course it is. He's doing you a favor, Rask, and don't forget that. It's just work.

The flash of red that sweeps away makes Effie smirk. "It's really unfair. The only time I've had someone look at me like you are now? It's now." Meaning it's not real. It's work, and he's a good actor. It's better that way.

Dick's gaze flicked over to the woman as she left and he smirked faintly - honestly he was glad she'd thought better of interrupting them, he wanted to keep his attention on Effie because he'd come here with her and it would be rude to do otherwise, and he really didn't like the kind of woman who assumed both that she was so irresistable that she'd be able to lure a man away from any other woman, and that Dick would be crass enough to pay attention to a woman other than his date.

He frowned a little at Effie's complaint, his expression mildly perplexed.

"That doesn't seem true, why wouldn't someone look at you like this? You're a beautiful, charming woman, I find it hard to believe that I'm the only man who's noticed that"

Effie appreciates his being kind, and maybe she blushes a little at his compliment. She finds a little more strength in another sip of wine.

She shrugs with a thin smile before tapping at her ear. "If they're hearing? It's this. At least in my experience when they realize that they really can't communicate with me the way they want to off the bat, and they move on."

Her lips purse in thought. "It's happened a few times, and it's just really hard to want to really get out and try. It isn't that I wouldn't want to date someone within the deaf community. It's just that they seem to get swept off of their feet pretty quickly." Effie smiles. She's not bitter for that. She's always going to be happy if anyone meets someone and they're happy.

"So, I haven't really made it a priority, and I'm okay with that. It's just really nice to get that look once in a while. Tonight's been good." Dick is provided with a sweet smile, and Effie's simply wanting the rest of this night to go as well as it can, find who they're looking for, and carry on. Tomorrow's a whole other day and they'll go back to their respective lives.

Dick wishes he could protest, claim that guys weren't like that, but he's aware enough to know that her experiences probably have all been like that - which is a shame, and also a mark of how stupid some men could be, since they were missing out on somebody that seemed, to Dick, to be pretty awesome.

"Idiots, all of them" he signs with a sad smile. "but I'm glad you're having fun. Hopefully it'll continue that way. Now, what do you want to do?" This is her mission, after all, he's here to facilitate whatever she wants to do.

Yeah. Maybe they're all idiots. Effie can't really argue the point, but it's nice to not have Dick attempting to defend the whole of the males of the species. "They're not all bad. I mean, you're not running for the hills and leaving me to defend myself against this crowd." She grins, wrinkling he freckled nose just a touch. "For that, I'm thankful."

Even if it is just a job.

At his question, she glances around the room, taking note of the who and what, and lowers her hands to sign, just low enough to make it more difficult to see over a table. "What do you know about Damien Darhk?"

[ooc: I just picked a random villain since I'm not overly up to date with anything. lol If you'd like to go for someone else? Just lemme know. ♥]

"What kind of date would I be if I did that?" Dick looks mock-offended at the implication. Truthfully, he's having far more fun already than he thought he was going to, she's good company and she's already made this event more bearable than these things usually are - the whole working part is just an added bonus, even if he is here more as cover than backup.

"Not much," he admits, he's heard of the man, and Batman makes a point of keeping track of most villains, but they've not really had to deal with him themselves "Former league of assassins, right?"

_{[It's all good, I'm fairly canonblind for DCTV stuff, and my comics knowledge is probably spottier than it should be, but I've got google and I can roll with whatever you got.}

_{I don't know if we decided if she knows about him being Nightwing or not, but thinking about it there's something kind of funny about her & other heroes dragging 'Dick Grayson' into their inner circle of crime fighting without knowing he's Nightwing]}

"Among other things. Rumor--" She stops when their server reappears to refill drinks that are barely touched. She smiles politely, wondering if it might be a better plan to turn to typing it out on her phone's notepad, if only because it's feeling like people are being nosier than she'd like.

Then again, Effie just may be paranoid. Maybe.

The young man leaves for the next table. Effie keeps her hands as out of sight as she can at the moment. They're going to have to change subjects, or at least the method of communicating for a few minutes if she's keeping up the charade. She's a journalist. Not a spy, but assignments usually meant trying to lay low. She's not overtly known to the public at large, only under the name of E. Rask. Though tonight's unintended photo op when they first arrived may change that if she's not careful.

Effie grins, almost seductively. C'mon, Dick. Play along. "Grabbing my phone. Pretend we're flirting. Laugh at what I write. Delete."

She gently pushes at Dick's shoulder in a very flirty gesture before her phone out from her handbag. Making sure it's as far out of eyesight as she can manage, to the point of pointing it towards her person, Effie quickly short-hands a message and gives the phone to her companion face-down.

Alive. Here. Pd for pty. Strtg new assin netwrk.

Effie smiles in the way that a partner might smile at their date in the hopes that they'd be going somewhere more private. In all honesty, she's starting to feel like she's in over her head, but she'd wanted adventure. And here she is in the middle of it.

[I had to dig a bit. I'm so-so on DCTV (I started for a while and then life happened, so am behind, but the pieces of the who have clicked lol), and I saw that there was a Darhk/Nightwing feud at some point in comics. I'm not overly concerned with keeping this a whole ton of canon. lol We're here to play! Muaha!

And yeah, I kind of like the idea that she wouldn't know about the Nightwing part of Mr. Grayson. That's just fun. lol]

Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he glances around the room, as though briefly distracted by the interruption of the server. In truth, it's made him just as suspicious as it's made Effie, and he's checking the place out for anybody else he needs to be concerned about. He's also trying to ascertain if the other tables were getting that kind of treatment and the server was just over-eager.

It's also possible he just thinks Effie's cute and is using the excuse to get closer - but Dick's not going to take any chances under the circumstances.

He grins flirtatiously back and leans in as if eager to see what she's about to show him, he picks up the phone when she lays it down and looks at the screen, careful to keep it angled away from anybody else. He laughs as instructed, light and casual, and deletes with a barely perceptible press of his thumb before handing the phone back. Then he makes a 'that reminds me' gesture and grabs for his own phone, like he has something to show her in turn. He taps out a message while pretending to look for the thing in question and leans in to show it to her - pressing himself close and conveniently shielding the screen from anybody looking.

Bad news. Plan?

_{[Ah I don't think I've read those ones! My comics knowledge is shamefully not particularly encyclopaedic alas. We can just roll with whatever works for us!]}

As Dick grabs his own phone, Effie's scooting her chair closer to him, all while smiling and providing an air of 'Ooh. Show me... is it sexy? A surprises?' because that's the only way she's going to get this story. And even that's a maybe--especially if she can't find her source in this place.

Odd, though, that her invitation had magically disappeared when the courier was supposed to deliver it, and she's now sitting here with Dick Grayson who also 'magically' was able to take her as a +1. Effie feels like she's missing a puzzle piece that's under a couch somewhere, but her arms aren't quite long enough to reach it.

She smiles knowingly, leaning in toward Dick as they keep up the charade and reaches to use his phone.

idfk. srce awol.

Effie turns her head to look at her current companion, catching that gaze that suddenly seems a little too deep, and he smells just a little too nice. How did she not notice this before?

Ignore her sudden blush, Dick. She has work to do. Even if she's smiling a whole lot more shyly than before.

sry. nce eyes

Dick is about to type a response when she looks up and suddenly for a moment it's like the world stops and the two of them are just staring at each other. It's such a strangely perfect moment, like something out of a movie, and Dick is loathe to interrupt it with actual business.

He does eventually drag his gaze away, glancing down at what she's written and chuckling - it's part of the act, yes, but it's also a little bit genuine.

is ok. i have that effect on ppl. he flashes her a cocky grin before looking back to the phone.

who is src? could mingle, help find?

It would be in keeping with the expectations of Dick Grayson for him to introduce his date to a few people, or even just to make a circuit of the room and say polite hellos to Wayne Enterprises shareholders and other people he was supposed to care about, that would give them a chance to get a good look at the joint.

She smirks, rolling her eyes in mild exacerbation. Of course he'd say that. Because he's Dick. He's got an image to uphold. Effie takes it for what it is, getting herself back into the mindset of what she's there to do.

Kate. i'd know if I see.

Boy, that narrows it down, but it's what she's got, and she's not a fan of revealing sources. Journalist and whatnot.

Effie shrugs and smiles, trying very hard to not pay too much attention to the male server who keeps just a little too close to the table. He made a couple of stops to other tables, but nothing that makes her comfortable with the situation.

might be good. srvr is susp. weirds me out

prbly thinks ur cute

He's partly just trying to reassure her, though, and keep her from getting too nervous, but he's also noticed that the guy definitely seems to be hovering. With that, and their plan, in mind, he tucks his phone away before she can reply and stands.

"Let's go mingle" he signs, picking up his drink in one hand and offering her his other arm. He can keep an eye on the server and see if he tries to follow, or if there's anybody else around showing a little too much interest in Effie, and at the same time they can scout out the room for this mysterious source.

Mingling is hard. Well, more like exhausting, but Effie has a job to do. And at least she's not doing it alone. Just here for the story. She smiles at Dick with a nod, draping the long, thin, delicate strap of her clutch bag over her neck and shoulder. No way she'd leave it at the table, and dresses? Don't have pockets. Her stuff has to go somewhere.

The server seems a little put out that they've left their table, but that's about all he is for the time being. Although Effie notices he has approached Red Dress after a time, but so far, it's not overtly strange.

She's on Dick's arm as he takes her about, and she's having to count on him to translate for her. Would this all be easier if she could just speak like a normal person? Of course. But such is life, and there's not much to be done about it other than survive, right?

The more they go on, the less confident Effie is that her contact actually made it here. "I'm starting to think this is either a setup, she got cold feet, or I've missed something I should be ashamed to have missed."

Dick isn't exactly a fan of mingling, but he is very experienced at it - he's been doing this since he was a little older than 9, after all, and even before that he had a habit of mixing with the audience after a show. He knew how to talk to strangers and be witty and charming and, more importantly, how to get information out of them without them even realising it. He doesn't know exactly what information they need, right now, but he's gently nudging people into chatting in the hopes they give away something Effie can use, and happily translating everything they're saying the whole way - and doing everything he can to ensure Effie is included in the conversation as well, of course.

He's making sure not to keep talking to anybody too long and to keep it moving, talking to people just long enough to make it look as though they're genuinely mingling rather than actively looking for someone.

"If you have, I've missed it too." he admits, because so far nobody's been too suspicious - at least, not so much that it was noticeable "Do you want to keep looking or get out of here, if it is a trap we can always leave before they spring it."

Effie pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath to clear her brain for a moment. None of this makes any sense. The lead on the story about Damien Darhk could have been utter bullshit, but she'd had no real reason to believe otherwise. It wasn't the first time rumors flew about the man (on more than one occasion, and many years before now). It didn't seem so far-fetched, and it's a hell of a story if true.

The truth of it is? Effie's feeling like she's been had, though she can't figure out why someone would try.

She makes a point to turn away from the guests, signing to Dick as his back faces a corner of the room. "I have no idea what trap whoever's trying to spring. But my guess is that this was all set up to make sure that you were going to be my date." Effie shakes her head, feeling a little taken advantage of and looking all the more frustrated about it. "Because I was just supposed to have a single ticket sent to me. You conveniently had two. Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"I have something of a reputation," Dick admits "I didn't think it was that strange that I was given a plus one, but now that you mention it..."

The concerning part was why, if his presence was also part of whatever trap was due to be sprung - and while he hadn't considered the possibility before now, he didn't want to dismiss it - was it because he was Dick Grayson, heir to Bruce Wayne, or was it the far more worrying option of because he was Nightwing?

"Maybe we should just get out of here. Pretend we can't keep our hands off each other, I'll act a little drunk and loudly suggest we go back to our hotel room and then we'll head for the exit" As much as he might normally want to stick around and prod the trap, he didn't want to put her in any more danger than she already might be, and he just wasn't prepared to be dragged into something right now. Sure he had a few things tucked away, he always did, but it was hardly a full utility belt, and there was way too much at stake if he needed to go full Nightwing on the situation.

Of course he has a reputation. He's Dick Grayson. Who the hell doesn't know that name? Or handsome face? But the fact that he was in the right place at the right time to conveniently take her on as a +1 as a favor to someone he'd only known in passing (even then, briefly so)? A bit odd, to put it mildly.

Effie nods at his suggestion to skedaddle, ready to make a so-called 'Irish goodbye'. Then comes the plan. She grins half-awkwardly at said plan, glad that she's facing away from the party goers because it's not the most convincing smile, and who would believe them, then?

C'mon, Effie. You're a smart girl. Get your shit together. "Not sure I've pretended that kind of thing, but if you want to start... I'll follow your lead." She's got a feeling he's had to pull the escape trick more than once. Being surrounded all the time has to be incredibly frustrating.

"Okay," he nods, stepping a little closer to her - partly to start selling it and partly to ensure nobody could see their conversation "Follow my lead. This is going to escalate quickly so we can get out of here sooner. If I go too far, just tell me you want a glass of wine and I'll dial it back. Deal?"

As soon as he's sure she understands and agrees, he slides an arm around her waist and tugs her closer with a flirtatious grin. He glances around the room as if checking they're not being watched (in reality he's taking another chance to scope out the place, see who might be paying attention to them, and promptly pretending not to notice any of them) and pulls her a little further into the corner. It affords them a little privacy and a touch more safety while also selling the idea he's really just wanting alone time with her.

She nods, grinning almost stupidly as she takes a deep breath. Just work. Just work. Get out of this damn place in one piece. Something went wrong/was wrong from the minute Effie was supposed to have gotten the invitation. The funny part? She had been on the list as a +1 for Dick. Not the other way around.

The stupid grin works well enough. All systems go.

Effie slides her arms over his shoulders. If she's honest, there's very little faking the easy, flirty smile. He's a nice enough guy. He's handsome, and maybe more than anyone has a right to be. As they slide into the corner a little more, she's got one hand to spell between the two of them as she offers a lazy, sultry grin. "This okay? Exit stairs farther than I thought."

Nobody's approached them yet. So far, so good. Right?

"You're perfect" he signs with a grin, leaning in like he's kissing her neck, though in truth the angle means he doesn't have to do anything more than move in close and tilt his head a little, though he's certainly close enough for his breathe to ghost across her skin.

It gives him a chance to look around over her shoulder, surveying the best route out of her as he plots his next move. He'd rather move fast, so the time for subtlety is probably not now. He draws back, pulls her in as close as he can manage and gives her a quick, apologetic look before he does the thing that's really going to sell this.

He kisses her.

Strange thing, pretending. Effie's well aware that this night has been all about it. Smile like he's the best thing in the world, or at least the room. Play spies and pretend to mingle with the people while trying to solve the case of the missing informant. They'll pretend to like you, just long enough to get a word out of Dick. You're then on your way to being pretend lovers, even though it's hard to really pretend a flush in the cheeks.

And you'll pretend that the pretend kissing of the neck doesn't feel even a little real with his breath there.

That pretend kiss that Dick's planting on her? Well. For the moment, Effie thinks it's kind of nice to pretend. She's pretty sure that no one's ever kissed her like that. It's easy to melt against him, and she's not sorry in the slightest. If it's pretend for the night, then it's just perfect.

After a moment, Effie reluctantly breaks that kiss and smiles. You'll pardon her pink cheeks, Dick, as she feels a smidge breathless in the moment. "We might've scared them. We should go."

Dick's feeling a little breathless himself when he breaks away. He'd thought this was going to be easy, he pretend flirts with women all the time - but they're rarely as smart and funny and beautiful and charming as Effie, and he isn't usually inclined to kiss them (he doesn't normally let it get that far).

He grins, it's a little wild, and he nods, stepping away just enough that he can grab her hand and tug her towards the exit - exactly how he would if he'd decided to hell with the party he was taking his date home right now. Which kind of is the case, but not technically for the reason it looks like.

He carefully ignores the part of himself that wishes it was. He can think about that properly later.

This night has certainly not turned out the way Effie'd expected, but she's also having the best time. Even if her source is somehow nowhere to be found. That's something to contemplate on for tomorrow. Running out the side door to escape this party/prying eyes/potential danger? It's like something out of a movie. And what a trope it is.

Effie keeps it in perspective. It's a show. Isn't it always?

Of course there's an entourage of press waiting outside, looking for anyone to stop and interview. Dick Grayson is the main target, of course. He's hand-in-hand with the date he came in with, and they're escaping early. Morning news local gossip? Of course it is.

Without being able to properly speak with him as they go, Effie manages to squeeze Dick's hand and offer a somewhat mischievous smile. At least that's real.

Dick flashes her a quick, reassuring grin, his eyes sparkling with equal mischief, and squeezes her hand back.

The press are eager to ask them questions of course, but if he actually stopped to answer them it would somewhat ruin the whole eager-to-get-out-of-there act, which is the excuse he'll use if anybody questions him about it later. Truthfully it's partly that and partly just because he really hates smiling politely and answering all the horrible intrusive questions the press comes out with.

"I'd love to stay and chat but we've got places to be. Very busy." he calls cheerfully as he dodges his way through the press, keeping a tight hold of Effie's hand as he tugs her along with him. It's a pathetic and vague excuse, but really that only sells the whole thing, right?

Being able to read lips is a talent Effie is more than thrilled to have perfected, and she laughs silently at Dick's declaration to everyone as they escape. She would've loved to be able to yell something like 'So long, suckers!', but for now? Enjoying this moment is pretty spectacular. She's never had a night like this, and she sincerely doubts she'll have another after it's over.

Before tonight, Effie had never really given Dick Grayson much thought beyond a guy who got extremely lucky and was living the best life he could imagine. At this point, she can't imagine it still isn't a true statement, but now Effie can tack on 'And he's a genuinely nice guy' on top of it. Maybe he's really only being nice to her as a favor, but she never really got that impression like she has from others.

Her hand grips his a little tighter as they try to figure out where the car is to escape into. They do still have their car, right?

One of the advantages to to being so well known is that by the time they'd made it through the gauntlet of paparazzi, the valets were already waiting with the car. Dick steers her towards it and grabs the keys of the guy with a thank you (and a hefty tip) before holding the door open for Effie. There's still a few photographers trailing after them snapping pictues, but Dick mostly ignores them.

Once Effie's settled, Dick gets in the car, flashes her a quick, reassuring grin, and drives off - he's on auto-pilot heading back to his own apartment, but any minute now he'll stop and think to check where she wants to go. The important part is getting away from there, once they're definitely safe they can figure out what's next.

Effie had wanted adventure in her life, and tonight has definitely offered it. It's not quite what she'd expected, no. Who honestly thinks they're going to wake up one morning and have to go a bit incognito with one of the best known individuals in this city? Certainly not Effie Rask.

She's still working on a reasonable adrenaline high when Effie realizes that they're not quite going to where she'd been picked up. Maybe Dick knows some sort of back way, but considering she doesn't live anywhere near the north part of the city? It's a little tough to sign to a person while they're driving, but she taps Dick on the arm to give him a pretty confused expression and mouth the words, Where are we going?

Dick glances at her out the corner of his eye, he's more practiced at lip reading than a socialite probably should be, but it's a simple enough sentence that he figures it won't be too suspicious that he manages to interpret it. He realises, then, that he hadn't stopped to ask her where she wants to go, but the logic of it pops into his head before he's even finished the thought.

He turns so he can still keep half an eye on the road but she can see his lips better as he explains "Back to my apartment. If there is anything suspicious going on, that's where they'll expect us to go. This way we keep our cover a little longer."

Besides, he'd rather stay with her, just in case. It could be absolutely nothing, a contact getting cold feet, but Dick hasn't survived as Nightwing, and Robin before that, as long as he has without erring on the side of caution.

"Unless you'd rather go to yours?"

Effie keeps getting the feeling that there's something bigger going on than just her source not showing up. It's not Dick's fault, no, but this charade between them keeps going. Normally, she would not be going home with a man she barely knows. But she hasn't felt unsafe with him. If anything, she's felt a little safer about this whole thing because of him.

After a few long beats, Effie nods and smiles, trying to keep Dick's attention on the road by simply signing, "Your place is okay."

Dick nods, turning his full attention back to the road as he continues driving towards his apartment building - keeping an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure they're not being followed.

He pulls into the underground garage and into his space, stopping the car and then waiting - making sure nobody else is coming into the garage after him. Once it seems the coast is clear, he gets out, crossing round to open the door for Effie.

"I'm in the penthouse, the elevator's over there." he explains, nodding towards the corner of the garage.

It's all playing out a little like a spy movie. Gotta be careful about not getting too wrapped into everything. She has a feeling that Dick's had to do this before. He is, after all, one of the most famous people she's ever come across. He's in every paper, every magazine. He's everywhere in the world, whenever he wants to be. And as far as she knows, on account of Bruce Wayne.

So, of course he lives in the penthouse. She grins a bit as they move toward the elevator. "This entire night did not go at all like I thought it would. Thanks for that."

"I'm sorry you weren't able to find your source, but I hope you had fun." he signs back, waiting for her to enter the elevator first and then stepping in after her and pressing the button for his floor. He doesn't know how much fun she could have had, they weren't there for very long and now she's going to be all over the tabloids in the morning, but he hopes it wasn't too awful.

There's a tiny part of him that's tempted to make up something about cameras in the elevator, to imply they might still be being watched and use it as an excuse to get close, but that feels like a level of subterfuge that crosses over from charming to sleazy and as much fun as he had flirting with her, it was alright because she was in on it too. It's disappointing to not have the excuse anymore, but maybe that could allow for a little genuine flirtation, just to see how she responds - he just doesn't know how appropriate it would be. Maybe after they make sure they're definitely safe.

It doesn't take the elevator long to reach his floor, and once again he motions for her to go first.

[ooc: That last tag of mine was painful. Wow, I was tired. lol Thank you for humoring me. ♥]

The party's over. The spell's mostly broken, she thinks. Their roles were played well enough. The memory of that kiss, though? That's going to linger on her lips for a while. "I'm not sure what I was expecting out of the party tonight. A story for tomorrow or maybe next week, I guess. Maybe it's just as well that they didn't show." She smiles at him as the door opens. "I learned that Dick Grayson isn't quite what the articles would have everyone believe."

She steps out of the elevator, wishing for all the world that she were actually at her place and changing out of all the foundation garments underneath her dress in anticipation of something more comfortable.

_{[Oh hush it was just fine <3]}

"Oh is that so? Going to make me your story instead?" he asks with a teasing grin "The real Dick Grayson, your greatest exposé yet"

If only she knew.

He opens to the door to his apartment and motions for her to go inside. The door leads into a short corridor, beyond which is a large open-plan living area and spacious kitchen. It's not the tidiest place in the world but it's not a total mess either. Above the fireplace is a framed poster for 'The Flying Graysons' - it's old and a little worn, but clearly well loved. There's framed photos, too, all around the room, mostly of his family and friends, but there's a small number of him and his parents before the accident.

"Make yourself at home, can I get you a coffee or something?" He figures she ought to stay for a little while to make it believable and then he'll call her a cab to get home.

[♥ ♥]

Effie pauses to look at the photos, and the poster. She knows a little about Dick's past, but she's polite enough to not ask too much. The lack of parents is something she knows a little about, even if their experiences are clearly different.

She laughs silently at his tease. "It probably would be, but I don't know you well enough, and I don't write deadline stories about people I like." Welp. That cat's out of the bag, so let's change that subject onto the offer of a beverage.

"Tea or beer or whatever you've got will be good. I'm a cheap date." She shifts her feet a little. "Would it be okay if I took of my shoes? These things are killer." Effie isn't trying to make herself at home, and she swears they'll go back on when she leaves. "I don't get out often enough to have a reason to wear them."

Now did she mean people she liked as in people she enjoyed spending time with and liked as people, or people she liked? Dick isn't entirely sure but he is sure he'd like to find out.

Once he's done playing good host, anyway.

"Tea I can do," he nods "Please, go ahead. Make yourself comfortable." he motions towards the couch, stopping himself just short of offering her a t-shirt or something to change into. Partly because, while she looked very beautiful in her dress, the idea of her in one of his t-shirts was somehow even more attractive.

He steps into the kitchen area and starts making them both a cup of tea, leaving her to take the place in if she wants, or just get comfortable on the couch.

The night's still young-ish, Dick. Don't overthink it quite yet.

"Thank you," she signs with a smile, taking him up on the offer to take a seat on the couch. Her legs are crossed very ladylike as she unbuckles the shoe (strappy shoes are just gorgeous, but getting them on and off is more than a pain sometimes). Dick might have a small scandalous peek at an ankle if he decides to poke his head in while she's occupied.

Once they're off and sat off to the side on the floor, Effie appears much more relaxed than she's actually felt all evening. She's wiggling her very pretty manicured toes, waiting for Dick's eventual return with the proffered tea.

This is certainly not the way she'd expected her night to go. Not by a long shot.

It's only a few minutes later when he returns with two mugs, handing hers over and depositing his on the coffee table so he can kick off his own shoes and strip off his jacket and tie before sitting in the armchair opposite her - it seems safer to put a little distance between them for now, so he isn't tempted to do something stupid.

"So I know your evening was a bust, but you never did answer whether or not you still had fun?" he asks with a soft smile.

As nice as it was to be able to pretend to be her date, he thinks he prefers this - quiet alone time, a chance to actually get to know her without having to put on a show for the cameras.

Effie's mindful of the hot exterior of the mug as Dick hands it to her. She smiles in thanks as she slides her fingers into the handle. Blowing over the steaming tea, she gives Dick an opportunity to get himself settled and the very top of her drink to slightly cool before sipping.

Her eyes close briefly as a pleased smile paints her features. Ahh. Bliss.

Dick's question has her sitting the mug on the table. Effie's got something of a perpetual smile hanging around. She kind of likes it. "I really did. I can now put 'escapes weird party with hot, reasonably famous celebrity while dodging paparazzi' on my list of items I wouldn't have thought of doing ever."

She shrugs a little, maybe a tinge sheepish. "I can honestly say it's been one of the best nights I've ever had. So, thanks for that."

"You think I'm reasonably famous?" he asks with an expression of mock surprise. He knows he is, of course, but he enjoys her smile and if joking around means he gets to see more of it, well that's what he's going to do.

"I'm really glad," he assures her, taking a sip of his own drink before putting the mug back down so he can talk more "I actually had a really fun night too, I couldn't have asked for a better date."

He really couldn't have, he doesn't think - he only wishes it had been a real date, which is why he follows up with.

"So when are we going out again?"

She's sipping her tea when Dick tells her he actually had a good time. Effie smiles over the cup, and she's pretty sure he's just being nice when he says he couldn't have asked for a better date. Probably because he's likely had better dates. Tonight wasn't real, anyway.

Even if it felt like it was from time to time. That kiss still kind of tingles.

His question has her cocking an eyebrow, but she's smiling like he can't be serious. "Ha ha, Dick."

"What?" Dick looks genuinely confused for a second, wondering if he's made some kind of joke without realising it. After a second though, his face falls - of course, she doesn't want to go out with him again, she had a good time but it was still all just an act. He doesn't blame her, he can't imagine somebody like Effie volunteering for the kind of public scrutiny that comes with dating somebody like him.

He tries to hide his disappointment and covers it with a charming smile.

"Can't blame a guy for hoping, right?"

Early on and over the course of her life, Effie's become an almost expert on reading facial expressions. She's had to, for inflection of voice that hearing people would use to assist them is not possible for her. So when Dick's suddenly and pretty obviously disappointed in her answer, Effie's pretty concerned. Both concerned and suddenly feeling like a jackass because her 'almost' part of 'expert' kicked in. It failed her.

But there's the trick: For the let-downs she's had in her feelings department? Effie's also had to put up a hefty wall of self-preservation. Don't take anything too seriously. Especially from guys you might like. Especially from reasonably famous hot guys.

She looks mortified as she realizes that maybe this time? It's okay. Dick had asked a genuine question of her--no tricks. No walking on the deaf girl. Effie gasps, feeling her face go perfectly pink. "Oh--oh no. You're serious? You'd like to go out again? Really go out?" The woman gives him a stupid smile and looks down at her hands for a moment, gathering her own nerve.

"If you're serious, and I haven't made a complete moron of myself? I'd really like that."

Edited (words) 2020-11-08 21:56 (UTC)

"Of course I'm serious" Dick reassures immediately, relief flooding over his face at her response. He can't help but smile a little, too, because she's kind of adorable when she's all flustered like that - she's kind of adorable in general, actually, but especially right now.

"You would?" his smile grows into something wide and open and delighted, because he was really hoping she'd say yes "How about something a little less filled with paparazzi this time, then?"

Something for just the two of them, a chance to get to know each other properly, without the subterfuge.

Who would have thought that one Mr. Grayson, who has his choice of pretty much anyone in the entire world, would ask one Ms. Rask out on an actual date. Something that wasn't a setup for a story. Something that doesn't require being "on". Something real.

Effie's all smiles with a little bit of her own relief tossed in for good measure. "That sounds absolutely perfect. No cameras. No weird parties."

Dick grins even wider at her agreement, like he hadn't quite believed she was going to say yes (even though she already had).

"Alright, how about Wednesday night, I'll pick you up around seven?" he suggests. Wednesday might be a little bit of an odd night for a date, but is isn't like he's got a normal job, and it's a quieter night for him usually so he feels confident suggesting it - unless there's some kind of Arkham breakout on Tuesday, he should be able to make it.

And if there is an Arkham breakout on Tuesday, Bruce and his brothers can handle it.

She smiles. "Wednesday will work." Even though Effie is pretty sure that she has a meeting sometime Thursday morning, she's not so sure what the actual time is, at the moment, and it's virtual. Pajamas really are the best work wardrobe for the occasional telecommute.

"Dare I ask what you have in mind to avoid your admirers?" A beat as she offers a lopsided grin. "Other than me?"

"Well they don't exactly camp outside my apartment, I do have a little freedom," he grins - he's grateful for that much, at least, and it's why he tries to keep his head down and keep a low profile most of the time, so they don't get all excited and up their coverage of whatever he's doing. He's pretty sure it would be much harder to be Nightwing with paparazzi following him literally everywhere.

"And I know some really excellent restaurants in out of the way places that are perfect for going unnoticed." he explains "How do you feel about Italian?"

She laughs silently. "I mean, I can't honestly say that I know or understand the daily life of someone who's usually stuck in a spotlight, so I'll just have to take your word for it." Effie had only dreamed about such things. Hollywood and flash and glamour. The little bit she's spent in it tonight? It's been very exciting, but she'd understand that it might get old. Maybe it doesn't bother Dick so much since he's been dealing with it for so long.

"How do I feel about Italian?" Effie grins a bit wickedly. "Let's put it this way: I've been saving for a trip to Tuscany and Rome, just for the food. Well--and the sights, but mostly the food." Carbs, cheese, and olive oil forever.

"Italian it is then." he grins broadly, pleased by her reaction - clearly he's made the right choice "I'll make reservations."

A nice quiet meal together, yes, that sounded like a much nicer date for both of them - not to mention the fact that it would be an actual date, which itself already put it head and shoulders above this evening's festivities, regardless of how much fun he'd actually ended up having.

"For now, though, would you like me to drive you home or make up the guest bed for you?"

[May the odds ever be in your favor when it comes to actually dating, but maybe she needs a cover for an op.]

( m/f )

p.s. i still love you

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