[Well, he'd set himself up for that question coming his way eventually, hadn't he?
He gives Amelia an impish look over the rim of his glass before taking a drink, then lowering it so that he can lean forward slightly, as though it's of great import that his answer is for her ears alone.]
Oh, almost immediately, I've no doubt. I was quite insufferable in my youth.
[An entirely different sort of unrecognizable than the broken shell he had been two years earlier.]
Ambitious beyond words and eager to prove my worth at any cost, in addition to being entirely unafraid to boast of my own virtues. I was, perhaps, somewhat more tolerable by the time I was working on my masters' degree, but I don't think you would have had the patience. Remarkably, I was quite popular at school, but I think that would have made you like me all the less.
[He doubts she has ever been the sort to think much of the opinion of the crowd.]
I'd like to believe I've been suitably humbled by now.
[The mischief in his eyes is... Endearing. She would never say that aloud, lest it'd get to his head, but from everything she's learned about Gale, he's learned many hard lessons and has gained the gift of self-awareness.
She likes how he tells her all this about himself, like a small little secret. It's nice. All of this is.
Amelia smiles into her glass.]
I wouldn't have known you to be boastful if you hadn't told me.
[As for herself...]
Back then, I don't think I liked many people. Or rather, I didn't know how to like people. I was rather well-read as I was growing up so I tended to be a contemptuous know-it-all in my own way.
[He likes that she can admit that about herself— the fact that she's willing to makes him feel she must trust him, given how private she has been about most things. It's a more meaningful offering than it would appear on the surface, to some.]
We've always had that in common, it seems— a great love of books.
[That, he doubts will ever change for either of them.]
Otherwise, we've both come quite a long way. You seem to like at least some people well enough now, for which I am infinitely grateful. Imagine if we had met in our youth— academic rivals, perhaps?
[She used books to block out other people, much to her parent's chagrin and concern. But he wasn't wrong about her genuine passion for the written word which culminated in her appointment as a professor at their very university.
There's a lot that Amelia still prefers to keep to herself, but talking with Gale was easy, enjoyable... Just like that first night.
Better not stray there.]
Hypothetically, I would be very argumentative. Determined about being right about everything. So yes, I don't think you're far off.
[It often feels easy with Amelia, when he doesn't give himself leave to overthink things. He laughs warmly at her hypothetical agreement, and the next pull from his glass goes down just a bit easier as he finds himself more engaged with the present than the past— something he's beginning to feel with surprising regularity, lately.]
Oh, no doubt we would have been at odds, because it would have been anathema to me to allow anyone else to be in the right.
[An insufferable know-it-all to the end.]
In our best interests, I think, that we waited until now to cross paths.
[There's a faint faltering in his voice, as though that somehow takes him by surprise, but he smiles again as he leans against the bar once more. He's beginning to feel that pleasant softening of edges that comes when a good, stiff drink is doing its job properly, and with how easy their exchange continues to feel, all of a sudden he's no longer thinking so hard about what he should and shouldn't say, self-imposed boundaries he's otherwise tried his best not to cross.]
That's very lucky for me, then. I want you to like me.
[Her cheeks should not have warmed up so quickly to his response. Maybe this conversation shouldn't have gone in this direction, but it was nowhere near bad. And that's precisely why she's scared cautious.
She coughs into her glass pretending to drink some more although the soda barely passes her lips.]
I think I've proven that by having drinks with you on a school night, Dr. Dekarios.
[The professional naming helps! Somehow!!]
We had plenty of other options without each other's company.
[The use of his title is enough to startle a little bit of sense back into him; he laughs again, though there's a faintly nervous undercurrent to it this time, and huffs softly before taking a more generous drink.]
I can't argue with that, even if I do welcome it.
[Innocuous enough, he thinks. Why shouldn't he welcome the company of a friend? He would have welcomed Tara or Professor Wroot or any other colleagues just the same, he's sure.
Probably.
He clears his throat softly.]
Tit for tat, however— I told you about my student. Have you any promising standouts that have already caught your eye this semester?
[Her fingers play with several strands of hair while she considers Gale's question.]
To be honest, it feels too early to tell even if we've been into the academic year for a few months. And since my classes are full of undergrads, I'm not actively making an effort to root out scholarly talent.
[Undergraduate classes, especially literature based ones like hers, are usually taken because of a missing requirement or as a filler class. Folklore and Mythology does have the benefit of intrigue in its initial premise and more than once, her students have expressed their growing interest or a change of perspective based on her lectures.
That's all she could ask for, really.]
I... Like talking about stories, analyzing them, taking on research about world literature and the like.
[She looks down at her lap, her hands wrapped around her cup.]
Truth be told, I think I may like that more than interacting with students. It doesn't hinder me from actual teaching mind you, but you get my point.
[Professor Steinbeck wasn't completely stoic, but the delineation between her and the pupils was made clear.]
... You know, I almost went on the path of medicine. Life would be very different right now if I did.
[Her fingers twirling about her hair draw his gaze just a touch more noticeably than they might have otherwise, the drink having compromised his efforts at subtlety, but he does, largely, focus on what she says more than what she does.
He smiles warmly as she explains her love of stories, indulgent; it strikes him as incredibly familiar, given that he feels much the same way about such things.]
I almost went into literature, myself. Diverging paths for the both of us.
[He takes another drink, the contents of his glass getting rather low, and he tips his head curiously.]
I can see you doing well in that field. You're very dedicated, level-headed. Was it your love of stories alone that won out and made you choose your current path, or something else?
[More and more similarities by the day— and while of course they have their differences, Gale can't help but think they're rather complementary. That kind of thinking is the sort that will get him into trouble, he knows, and yet when he lets his mind wander, or when he's allowed a reprieve from his currently hectic day-to-day, his thoughts turn to her more often than they should.
Right now, two drinks in and having laid his greatest hurt and humiliation out on the table, he can't quite remember why he's been trying so hard to stifle those thoughts. Even before they had set their boundaries in the interest of keeping things professional, he'd been so certain that anything even remotely real would have been a bad idea, that he was better off keeping to himself and keeping all others at arm's length.
Why? The ease he often feels when talking to Amelia makes it near impossible to remember.
He finishes the last of his drink and sets his empty glass down, brow furrowed slightly.]
It would have been the family profession, then. I've no doubt there are plenty of doctors with short tempers, but I suppose it's not ideal.
[He gives her a crooked little half-smile, clearly teasing.]
[Amelia's thoughts are tightly controlled and rarely does she let them wander any further than brief fancies (or in the case of this afternoon's incident, through provocation). As they sit here together, survivors of their own faults and mishaps, she's relaxed in a way that's uncommon with other people.
She recognizes the gravity of what Gale has shared with her and how far he had fallen to be that humbled enough to tell her. Compared to him, she's rather insensitive. It almost makes her want to open up the door to him even more, to invite him with more friendliness than she has managed to show up to this point.
But it feels too late and she had fallen too deeply before already.
(It isn't humbleness she needs, but acceptance that has been caged by denial, but god it hurts to look inward even further than she already has.)
Gale's small tease makes her crack a minuscule sideways smile or something akin to it.]
No, no it isn't. I think I handle the mental burden of someone's grade much more gracefully than I ever would regarding their physical health. So, I'm glad I'm not a doctor.
For one thing, it'd be harder to make time like this with friends.
That would be a terrible shame. I've come to look forward to our lunches.
[Their other activities, as well— even just passing chats in the corridors. All else aside, it's been a long, long while since he's enjoyed such warm comradery with any of his colleagues, save Tara— and she was more family than fellow academic, at this venture.
He leans against the bar once more, his chin resting in his hand as his smile pulls a touch wider. Though he's had less to drink than that first night, he can feel it working more keenly this time— perhaps because he's so overworked and worn thin to begin with.]
You've been after my health well enough, at least. Admittedly, the reminders to eat properly have been helpful, if not something I'd ever thought I'd need.
[He enjoys good food far too much for that, usually, though he's been known to miss a meal or two due to a good hyperfixation.]
[At least the part that instinctively checked on the health of others. Not that her own mother wasn't actively doing that too, it's just that her nurturing had a stark different from her father's.
(His smile is nice, she thinks idly.)]
My friends had to remind me all the time to eat during my college years. I was a touch more neglectful and it was detrimental to my overall wellbeing.
Since then I'm trying to be less foolish. The jury's on the table about how well that's worked out.
[And really, she can't help but smile down at her lap because they both know what they did.]
[He chuckles softly, his own gaze turning downwards.
Yes, they absolutely both know what they did.]
I don't think it's worked out so terribly.
[Not only because of what had happened that first night. He looks up at her again, and finds himself struck by the intense color of her eyes for a moment.]
We're sitting here now, aren't we? I can think of far worse outcomes.
[They could have parted ways entirely, never spoken to one another again— this, without a doubt, is much better.]
[She makes the mistake of looking at him in return, locking their eyes together. All of a sudden Amelia is unsure of what to say next.
His eyes were always lively and expressive. Even the dark color shone with joy when talking about favored topics, displayed hurt with painful clarity, and looked at others with sincere intent. It was a listening gaze that made her think about the first night, made her want to have it all for herself.
(Briar looked at her the same way, when they were children, when they were in high school, every time she came home for the summer in college, from the hospital bed before the light fadedโ)
Ah. She looks down at her lap again. Thank god she didnโt buy a second drink.]
Should we call it a night then? We have work tomorrow.
[The moment their eyes meet lasts both an eternity and nowhere near long enough. Whatever he's been trying to convince himself of these past months, whatever narrative they've agreed to participate in between them— in an instant, it falls away, and the truth is laid bare.
They have been pretending, both of them, and it has become increasingly difficult to ignore.
She looks down, and he lets out a soft huff of breath as he averts his own gaze, suddenly finding his empty glass to be terribly interesting. He clears his throat softly at her suggestion, reaching for his bag.]
Perhaps we should. It's not terribly late yet, but we've both— plenty to do, I'm sure.
[And if they stay here, like this, he can't help but wonder if they might make another 'mistake.' Would it be one, truly?]
Shall I walk you, or do you already have arrangements with Oren?
[If she had indulged in another drink, she'd be dangerously close to indulging in other ways. Not tonight, not ever again, thinks Amelia. They already spent time putting out one fire this afternoon so she isn't so quick to throw herself into another.
(I'd just be running away again.)
Amelia uses her card to pay their tab. While she's being rung up, she replies to Gale.]
Oren will pick me up, but you can walk me to my spot.
[There isn't really a spot, but she gave Oren a street to pick her up in, not necessarily a specific landmark. When her card is returned, she pushes herself off of her seat.]
[Though she had promised to treat him to drinks earlier to make up for their missed lunch, he still catches himself reaching for his wallet out of habit, but corrects himself and offers her an appreciative smile as she settles their tab. He pulls the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he gets to his feet, and for a moment, he's tempted to offer her his arm— if their being friends was as clear-cut as his friendship with Tara was, then he would have done so without hesitation, but the fact that it isn't makes him think better of it, even if there's a flutter of disappointment in his chest as he decides against it.]
Gladly. I would be poor company indeed if I let you walk out into the evening on your own.
[She's fully capable, of course, but... it seems a shame to simply part ways at the bar when they could have at least a few more minutes to chat, and his good manners make it impossible to avoid making such an offer altogether.
It's still early evening when they step outside, though the next day will start early for the both of them, making it late enough that home is certainly the right call.]
[Amelia keeps her hands clasped around her clutch purse and her eyes towards the ground as they walk to the corner. It's a paradoxically comfortable, but awkward silence where the urge to continue talking remains, but the uncertainty prevents further conversation.
Still, she tries.]
The holidays are coming up soon. Any plans with other friends?
[It goes without saying, but they've technically been having coffee without having to wait for any "before" or "after" timeframe like was mentioned in that first text conversation they shared when she was just "Eva."]
It's rich coming from me, but we shouldn't be working all the time.
[He laughs a little, a note of self-deprecation hidden in there somewhere.]
There aren't so many of those these days, at least around these parts, but I'll likely catch up with a few. My friend Halsin will be in town visiting family, so we've plans to meet, but I imagine for much of the holiday season, I'll be at my mother's disposal.
[He's kept so busy during the semester proper that his regular visits have fallen off a fair amount, and with the entirety of their clan coming together for the holidays themselves, he knows full well his mother will put him to work in the kitchen, which he'll gladly aid with.]
Of course, I haven't forgotten that you and I planned to meet for coffee at least once during the break. 'Before the holidays,' if I recall. There's also a conference in early December Tara and I will be visiting.
We've been having a lot of coffee together. I'm sure having it in the university and outside of it already counts.
[But if she's saying that, she realizes that it sounds contrite, so she adds.]
I'm sure I can make the time. My parents have been asking me to visit them and I've been putting it off. I'll probably be helping them sort out some business affairs and such.
[Some places can't clean themselves y'know]
Additionally, Berna will find a way to whisk us to a prime holiday vacation destination. Don't be surprised if that gets in your way.
[He's nothing if not detail-oriented— he seems to remember most things, in fact.]
It would be nice to have the opportunity to check in, at least. Should time allow, we each ought to be able to ensure that the other isn't working their entire break away regardless.
[It does seem exactly the sort of thing they both would do. He winks mischievously, perhaps against his better judgment.]
It sounds like you've plenty lined up to keep you busy, however. Holidays and family do tend to go hand-in-hand, and I'm certain Berna will ensure you have a splendid getaway. She always seems very invested in your best interests.
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sunfloras2024-01-21 09:17 pm
no subject
He gives Amelia an impish look over the rim of his glass before taking a drink, then lowering it so that he can lean forward slightly, as though it's of great import that his answer is for her ears alone.]
Oh, almost immediately, I've no doubt. I was quite insufferable in my youth.
[An entirely different sort of unrecognizable than the broken shell he had been two years earlier.]
Ambitious beyond words and eager to prove my worth at any cost, in addition to being entirely unafraid to boast of my own virtues. I was, perhaps, somewhat more tolerable by the time I was working on my masters' degree, but I don't think you would have had the patience. Remarkably, I was quite popular at school, but I think that would have made you like me all the less.
[He doubts she has ever been the sort to think much of the opinion of the crowd.]
I'd like to believe I've been suitably humbled by now.
no subject
She likes how he tells her all this about himself, like a small little secret. It's nice. All of this is.
Amelia smiles into her glass.]
I wouldn't have known you to be boastful if you hadn't told me.
[As for herself...]
Back then, I don't think I liked many people. Or rather, I didn't know how to like people. I was rather well-read as I was growing up so I tended to be a contemptuous know-it-all in my own way.
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We've always had that in common, it seems— a great love of books.
[That, he doubts will ever change for either of them.]
Otherwise, we've both come quite a long way. You seem to like at least some people well enough now, for which I am infinitely grateful. Imagine if we had met in our youth— academic rivals, perhaps?
no subject
There's a lot that Amelia still prefers to keep to herself, but talking with Gale was easy, enjoyable... Just like that first night.
Better not stray there.]
Hypothetically, I would be very argumentative. Determined about being right about everything. So yes, I don't think you're far off.
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Oh, no doubt we would have been at odds, because it would have been anathema to me to allow anyone else to be in the right.
[An insufferable know-it-all to the end.]
In our best interests, I think, that we waited until now to cross paths.
no subject
... If we met when we were younger, I might have liked you in my own difficult way.
Right now, it's... It's not difficult at all.
[is it though]
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[There's a faint faltering in his voice, as though that somehow takes him by surprise, but he smiles again as he leans against the bar once more. He's beginning to feel that pleasant softening of edges that comes when a good, stiff drink is doing its job properly, and with how easy their exchange continues to feel, all of a sudden he's no longer thinking so hard about what he should and shouldn't say, self-imposed boundaries he's otherwise tried his best not to cross.]
That's very lucky for me, then. I want you to like me.
no subject
scared cautious.
]She coughs into her glass pretending to drink some more although the soda barely passes her lips.
I think I've proven that by having drinks with you on a school night, Dr. Dekarios.
[The professional naming helps! Somehow!!]
We had plenty of other options without each other's company.
no subject
I can't argue with that, even if I do welcome it.
[Innocuous enough, he thinks. Why shouldn't he welcome the company of a friend? He would have welcomed Tara or Professor Wroot or any other colleagues just the same, he's sure.
Probably.
He clears his throat softly.]
Tit for tat, however— I told you about my student. Have you any promising standouts that have already caught your eye this semester?
no subject
To be honest, it feels too early to tell even if we've been into the academic year for a few months. And since my classes are full of undergrads, I'm not actively making an effort to root out scholarly talent.
[Undergraduate classes, especially literature based ones like hers, are usually taken because of a missing requirement or as a filler class. Folklore and Mythology does have the benefit of intrigue in its initial premise and more than once, her students have expressed their growing interest or a change of perspective based on her lectures.
That's all she could ask for, really.]
I... Like talking about stories, analyzing them, taking on research about world literature and the like.
[She looks down at her lap, her hands wrapped around her cup.]
Truth be told, I think I may like that more than interacting with students. It doesn't hinder me from actual teaching mind you, but you get my point.
[Professor Steinbeck wasn't completely stoic, but the delineation between her and the pupils was made clear.]
... You know, I almost went on the path of medicine. Life would be very different right now if I did.
no subject
He smiles warmly as she explains her love of stories, indulgent; it strikes him as incredibly familiar, given that he feels much the same way about such things.]
I almost went into literature, myself. Diverging paths for the both of us.
[He takes another drink, the contents of his glass getting rather low, and he tips his head curiously.]
I can see you doing well in that field. You're very dedicated, level-headed. Was it your love of stories alone that won out and made you choose your current path, or something else?
no subject
The little things about us keep adding up, huh?
[It should feel ridiculous, but it isn't.]
... It was a little bit of both that you mentioned. Firstly, I don't really have the temperament to be a doctor unlike my father.
[And if she were to be perfectly honest, she did not like hospitals for good reason.]
no subject
[More and more similarities by the day— and while of course they have their differences, Gale can't help but think they're rather complementary. That kind of thinking is the sort that will get him into trouble, he knows, and yet when he lets his mind wander, or when he's allowed a reprieve from his currently hectic day-to-day, his thoughts turn to her more often than they should.
Right now, two drinks in and having laid his greatest hurt and humiliation out on the table, he can't quite remember why he's been trying so hard to stifle those thoughts. Even before they had set their boundaries in the interest of keeping things professional, he'd been so certain that anything even remotely real would have been a bad idea, that he was better off keeping to himself and keeping all others at arm's length.
Why? The ease he often feels when talking to Amelia makes it near impossible to remember.
He finishes the last of his drink and sets his empty glass down, brow furrowed slightly.]
It would have been the family profession, then. I've no doubt there are plenty of doctors with short tempers, but I suppose it's not ideal.
[He gives her a crooked little half-smile, clearly teasing.]
no subject
She recognizes the gravity of what Gale has shared with her and how far he had fallen to be that humbled enough to tell her. Compared to him, she's rather insensitive. It almost makes her want to open up the door to him even more, to invite him with more friendliness than she has managed to show up to this point.
But it feels too late and she had fallen too deeply before already.
(It isn't humbleness she needs, but acceptance that has been caged by denial, but god it hurts to look inward even further than she already has.)
Gale's small tease makes her crack a minuscule sideways smile or something akin to it.]
No, no it isn't. I think I handle the mental burden of someone's grade much more gracefully than I ever would regarding their physical health. So, I'm glad I'm not a doctor.
For one thing, it'd be harder to make time like this with friends.
no subject
[Their other activities, as well— even just passing chats in the corridors. All else aside, it's been a long, long while since he's enjoyed such warm comradery with any of his colleagues, save Tara— and she was more family than fellow academic, at this venture.
He leans against the bar once more, his chin resting in his hand as his smile pulls a touch wider. Though he's had less to drink than that first night, he can feel it working more keenly this time— perhaps because he's so overworked and worn thin to begin with.]
You've been after my health well enough, at least. Admittedly, the reminders to eat properly have been helpful, if not something I'd ever thought I'd need.
[He enjoys good food far too much for that, usually, though he's been known to miss a meal or two due to a good hyperfixation.]
no subject
[At least the part that instinctively checked on the health of others. Not that her own mother wasn't actively doing that too, it's just that her nurturing had a stark different from her father's.
(His smile is nice, she thinks idly.)]
My friends had to remind me all the time to eat during my college years. I was a touch more neglectful and it was detrimental to my overall wellbeing.
Since then I'm trying to be less foolish. The jury's on the table about how well that's worked out.
[And really, she can't help but smile down at her lap because they both know what they did.]
no subject
Yes, they absolutely both know what they did.]
I don't think it's worked out so terribly.
[Not only because of what had happened that first night. He looks up at her again, and finds himself struck by the intense color of her eyes for a moment.]
We're sitting here now, aren't we? I can think of far worse outcomes.
[They could have parted ways entirely, never spoken to one another again— this, without a doubt, is much better.]
no subject
His eyes were always lively and expressive. Even the dark color shone with joy when talking about favored topics, displayed hurt with painful clarity, and looked at others with sincere intent. It was a listening gaze that made her think about the first night, made her want to have it all for herself.
(Briar looked at her the same way, when they were children, when they were in high school, every time she came home for the summer in college, from the hospital bed before the light fadedโ)
Ah. She looks down at her lap again. Thank god she didnโt buy a second drink.]
Should we call it a night then? We have work tomorrow.
no subject
They have been pretending, both of them, and it has become increasingly difficult to ignore.
She looks down, and he lets out a soft huff of breath as he averts his own gaze, suddenly finding his empty glass to be terribly interesting. He clears his throat softly at her suggestion, reaching for his bag.]
Perhaps we should. It's not terribly late yet, but we've both— plenty to do, I'm sure.
[And if they stay here, like this, he can't help but wonder if they might make another 'mistake.' Would it be one, truly?]
Shall I walk you, or do you already have arrangements with Oren?
no subject
(I'd just be running away again.)
Amelia uses her card to pay their tab. While she's being rung up, she replies to Gale.]
Oren will pick me up, but you can walk me to my spot.
[There isn't really a spot, but she gave Oren a street to pick her up in, not necessarily a specific landmark. When her card is returned, she pushes herself off of her seat.]
Let's go.
no subject
Gladly. I would be poor company indeed if I let you walk out into the evening on your own.
[She's fully capable, of course, but... it seems a shame to simply part ways at the bar when they could have at least a few more minutes to chat, and his good manners make it impossible to avoid making such an offer altogether.
It's still early evening when they step outside, though the next day will start early for the both of them, making it late enough that home is certainly the right call.]
Lead the way, and I will happily escort you.
no subject
Still, she tries.]
The holidays are coming up soon. Any plans with other friends?
[It goes without saying, but they've technically been having coffee without having to wait for any "before" or "after" timeframe like was mentioned in that first text conversation they shared when she was just "Eva."]
It's rich coming from me, but we shouldn't be working all the time.
no subject
There aren't so many of those these days, at least around these parts, but I'll likely catch up with a few. My friend Halsin will be in town visiting family, so we've plans to meet, but I imagine for much of the holiday season, I'll be at my mother's disposal.
[He's kept so busy during the semester proper that his regular visits have fallen off a fair amount, and with the entirety of their clan coming together for the holidays themselves, he knows full well his mother will put him to work in the kitchen, which he'll gladly aid with.]
Of course, I haven't forgotten that you and I planned to meet for coffee at least once during the break. 'Before the holidays,' if I recall. There's also a conference in early December Tara and I will be visiting.
no subject
We've been having a lot of coffee together. I'm sure having it in the university and outside of it already counts.
[But if she's saying that, she realizes that it sounds contrite, so she adds.]
I'm sure I can make the time. My parents have been asking me to visit them and I've been putting it off. I'll probably be helping them sort out some business affairs and such.
[Some places can't clean themselves y'know]
Additionally, Berna will find a way to whisk us to a prime holiday vacation destination. Don't be surprised if that gets in your way.
no subject
It would be nice to have the opportunity to check in, at least. Should time allow, we each ought to be able to ensure that the other isn't working their entire break away regardless.
[It does seem exactly the sort of thing they both would do. He winks mischievously, perhaps against his better judgment.]
It sounds like you've plenty lined up to keep you busy, however. Holidays and family do tend to go hand-in-hand, and I'm certain Berna will ensure you have a splendid getaway. She always seems very invested in your best interests.
(no subject)