songofsong | AU } Maybe in another life, we wouldn't be alone tonight

Having being about to book her taxi, Melody pauses at being offered a drink. She'd hardly expected that turn out for the evening, especially from the man she'd met in the museum all those hours ago. She considers him for a moment, somewhat surprised he would even what to spend more time with her.

There's something in that smile that makes her wonder, makes her curious. She only has home to go to, and the idea of spending an evening with a good looking man like him is both ridiculous and tempting.

"You can if you like," she agrees, apparently going ahead with, whatever this was. It can't hurt after all, it's only a drink.

Maybe in truth he didn't expect her to say no. People don't tend to say no. Maybe it's that cheeky smile of his, or maybe it's the fact he's genuinely interested in people, but one way or another, he's rarely heard a 'no' to a question like that.

Just a drink, of course. Of course.

"Great," he says, gesturing his hand out for them to go back into the rain, albeit briefly as they move next door and into the rather hectic pub. It's nothing special, a little tired around the edges, some chain with menus with unspecified stains on, and sticky patches on the floor. Probably the sort of place he usually finds himself.

"You get us a table," he tells her, "I'll get the drinks in."

Worth getting a drink while she waits out the rain. At least, that’s what she tells herself as she allows herself to be led to the pub next door. Closing her umbrella, she shakes it out in the doorway, looking around curiously at the very busy interior. It’s not the kind of pub she usually finds herself in, but a pub’s a pub, and she’s not going to be rude about it.

“Ok,” she agrees cheerfully, watching him go before she makes her way further inside, looking for a spare table. There’s a family corner that’s full of noisy kids, and another corner full of men watching the football - neither are appealing, so in the end she has to settle on a small table lost somewhere near the toilets.

Perching herself down in her seat, she thinks twice about putting her coat around the back of her chair, and instead keeps it on, tucking her suitcase under the table. Seeing her reflection in the nearby framed picture on the wall, she tries to make some adjustments to the curls that haven’t responded favourably to the damp weather, neatening that wild hair as much as it would allow.

It’s just then that James arrives back at the table, and she quickly looks up at him, dropping her hands and smiling.

“Ah, best one I could find I’m afraid,” she says apologetically, referring to the choice of table.

James doesn't take long to get the drinks, charming the girl behind the bar easily with a warm smile and a teasing comment or two. It's all in good humour of course, and he shoots her a small wink before he steps away.

Turning, he looks to see where she's gone, spotting her over by the corner, looking a little out of place, far more suited to somewhere upmarket. He imagines her as the wine bar sort, or some place with a piano gently playing while she sits at the bar in a cocktail dress. All very Pretty Woman. Just without the hooker bit.

Drinks in hand, he steps over. It doesn't occur to him that he never asked what she wanted, and he sets his bottle of beer down, her glass of gin and tonic (that's possible a double) placed out before her.

"So you're the head honcho at the museum, eh?" he asks. "Nice gig you've got there."

"Oh, thank you," she says gratefully as the drink's placed down. She notes his choice, and approves of it. At least he hadn't gone for some kind of alcopop.

Taking a testing sip of the drink, she returns it back to the table, looking to him with a small laugh at his choice of words.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," she replies, absently brushing some curls away from her face. "I've been there about, oh, must be fifteen years now."

Ever such a long time and yet no time at all.

Edited 2014-09-16 11:38 (UTC)

"15 years? Blimey," he refrains from pointing out he would have been about 12 years old then. Probably not the best way to break the ice. But the thought is there.

"I'd ask if you ever get bored but in a place like that can't imagine you ever would. All that stuff. It's so cool."

Some of it highly inaccurate. But definitely cool.

It’s perhaps better than he doesn’t bother pointing that out. She needs no reminder how old she is, thank you very much. However, the ‘blimey’ hints at it, and she laughs quietly, a touch embarrassed. When you say it out loud, it really does sound like a long time.

“Oh, never bored,” she assures him, that being one of the reasons she’s stayed in that job for so long. Not only that, it’s hers, and she’s cherished it and watched it grow just as she had her son. “There’s always something exciting happening - like today! It’s taken me years to get the space exhibit arranged.”

It’s a great achievement and one she’s clearly proud of. That also reminds her of how she’d mistaken him for some scouting type from London, and seeing him now, she realises how silly that was of her.

“What about you?” she asks, deciding to clear that up once and for all. “Are you from London?”

"Me?" he asks, drawing his bottle away from his lips. He seems almost surprised by the question, though he's not really sure why.

"Live down that way, yeah," he tells her. Well, Croydon. Close enough, 15 minutes into central on the train. Maybe it's the 'where you're from' question, one he can't truly answer.

"Bit of a slower pace up here though."

“Yes, it is a bit,” she agrees, laughing quietly. “I’ve been to London quite a lot over the years. I must admit, I’m always glad to get back.”

The sentence breaks off as she leans forward to pick up her drink, taking a sip and absently adjusting the lime slice. She does wonder what exactly she’s doing here, why she agreed to come out for a drink, when it’s quite clear the man is decades younger than her. She almost feels a bit foolish for even wondering about his intentions, because they’re surely nothing more than this.

She glances towards him again, watching him a moment, but should he look her way, she smiles cheerfully, making sure none of those thoughts could be seen on her face.

“So, you said you liked the museum. Is that an interest you have? Something you’re studying for … or?”

"Oh yeah, yeah!" he says, sitting up a little straighter, the enthusiasm seeming to light up his eyes. "Love it. Love all that stuff. I mean it's mad, isn't it? Completely mad. Space. Everything out there. Aliens. I mean there has to be aliens, right?" he laughs a little and shakes his head.

"Sorry I must sound ridiculous. But you know there's got to be something, right? And we, well we can barely even scratch the surface. One day we'll be out there. Already saving up for my seat on the first shuttle out there."

It's dreaming, of course, wishful. But then there's nothing wrong with that, is there?

He shakes his head though at the study question; he never did manage much of that. Or at least never did that he can recall. "Nah, nah, just call it a healthy interest."

It makes her smile, the way he seems to light up from the inside. Such a genuine passion there, honesty, despite what others might think. He reminds her of herself that way, and it's refreshing.

He has dreams, something she's almost a little envious of. She had dreams, lived some of them, but not all of them.

"Well, I think it's wonderful you're so enthusiastic about it," she tells him honestly. "No matter what anyone thinks."

Because she had noticed that he'd come here alone, and he didn't seem to be the type of man who was often without company.

It's that little aside that makes him laugh, a knowing look in his eyes as he points a finger towards her. "Oh you're astute," he says. "Clever. Very clever."

Of course he has friends, and if he'd really tried to ask they'd have come here with him, he doubts he'd have been short of people willing. But none of them would have truly been interested, and somehow this, alone, feels fine. It feels normal. He doesn't mind it. Even if it is better with someone beside him.

"Nah," he clarifies. "Not really my mates' thing, you know? They're more the music festival types. They'd probably think I was ill if they saw me getting over excited by black holes and supernovas."

Melody's expression twists into a knowing little smile when he calls her clever. She likes the compliment, and she likes the fact he's saying it.

"Well, that is a shame," she says, because it's nice to share the things you love with another. "Instead, you're stuck here with me instead."

She's joking, but there is an undertone there that acknowledges he might not quite want her company for too long.

The comment earns a whole new expression, a raise of his brow and twist of his smile that twists into a smirk.

"Mm, good job I came alone, don't you think?"

It's rather overt, but why not be? He's enjoying sitting with her; she's a beautiful woman after all, there's hardly any reason to pretend otherwise.

She senses something there, a meaning that he's not trying too hard to disguise. She's not quite so sure if she's reading things wrongly though, and the idea that she might be is even more embarrassing. She chuckles quietly, almost awkwardly, going to pick up her glass again and distract herself with another sip.

She glances across to him as she does so, trying to work him out, if he really meant what she thought she meant - or had she gone truly insane.

She did have a history of her mind playing tricks on her after all.

"So, when did all this start?" she asks, attempting to steer them back onto a safer topic. "You know, the space thing."

He sees it, of course. He sees the way she hurries towards her drink. It tells him more than she's saying, paints pictures he doubts she intends. He passes no comment on any of it, though, simply stores it away for later.

"Oh, long as I can remember," he says, and it's perhaps more true than even she could realise. Truly, as long as he can remember. It might not be as long as most.

"But enough about me. What about you, eh? Tell me about you, Madame Curator."

"Oh, me?" she asks, as though the topic is a surprising one to find themselves on. She pulls a small face as though she can't think what to say. She can't, really. What can she tell him about herself that isn't going to sound awfully boring to a man his age.

"Well, I run the World Museum - of course, you already know that part. And, well, I guess same as you, really. I've been interested in history for a long time, and I found a place that cares about it as much as I do. I do a lot of work in the area, with the local schools and libraries. Really trying to get kids interested, you know? I feel like if you get them hooked young, they're interested for life."

It's only as she talks, that she starts to feel a little more confident, a little more sure of herself. Less of a performance from a woman who clearly hasn't been playing this part for some time.

There's something utterly compelling about her. He isn't quite sure what it is, but he finds himself utterly rapt. He wonders if he might not even if she was simply reading the phone book.

"Oh I'm sure they are," he says, and though it's not quite suggestive, it wouldn't take much to make it so if that's what he intended.

His eyes have already glanced towards her hand, already noted the absence of any sort of ring. She's got a son, she said that much, but maybe she hasn't got a husband.

"And when you're not at work?" he asks. "Or are you just all museum all the time?"

She smiles at his words, seeming a little more comfortable. It seems she too likes the opportunity to talk about what she loves without ridicule - or in her case, disinterest.

"Oh, it feels that way sometimes," she admits with a faint laugh, going to touch somewhat awkwardly at the back of her hair, primping unnecessarily. She's spent many a late night in that museum, long after the doors have closed. Both because there was work to be done, and because there was little waiting for her at home but a glass of wine and the telly.

"I.. do things outside work. I go places." The supermarket. "And see people." The neighbours.

"Go places, really, careful now," James responds as though she just told him she takes regular day trips to the moon, teasing her a little with a smile that matches his words.

But it's more than that, of course. While there's curiosity about more, there's reason behind it all. James isn't one to step on toes, and certainly not one to make advances where they ought not be one. But he also finds no reason to pretend he doesn't find Melody attractive. She is, after all. Attractive and fascinating.

At her latter words, his brow lifts.

"Oh yeah? Seeing anyone at the moment, are you?"

"Oh. That's not.. that's not what I meant," she admits sheepishly, almost taking another drink when she steels herself through it and keeps her glass on the table. Though her fingers do seem to wrap around it a little tighter.

She takes a moment before she lets some of that uncertainty fall aside, and responds a little more confidently than she felt.

"No. Not at the moment."

"Right," he nods a little, taking another swig from his beer, finishing off what's in the bottle.

"Well in that case, Melody. Can I get you another drink?"

When it seems that answers something for him, she looks over curiously, beginning to wonder if perhaps she wasn't jumping to conclusions as she first thought.

"Another drink?" she repeats, like he's offered her something entirely unprecedented.

"Same again?" he asks, pushing up from his seat and giving her a questioning look. There's no push there, no demand. He's not trying to force her to anything, far from it.

When it seems that's his answer, she looks back to the glass she's still holding before she begins to smile somewhat, a little more sure of herself, able to see a little clearer.

"Actually, I'll have a white wine," she says, looking up at him with a smile. Might as well let him know of her preferences if he's going to make a habit of this.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject