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

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.

"White wine it is," he says with an appreciative little smile. He stops only a moment, glancing at her for perhaps longer than he needs to, before he steps aside and heads back over to the bar.

Over there, he orders himself another beer, and a wine for her, a good one, because despite appearances, he actually knows his wines and maybe part of him thinks she might find that a little impressive.

It isn't as though he came here with some pre planned intention. No, not that at all. But if there's anything James has ever been, it's one to take an opportunity when it's put his way. He tries to live without regrets, without a world of what ifs and maybes. Live, because that's what life's for, isn't it?

A few minutes later, he's stepping back towards the table, setting down the large glass of wine in front of her. "It's the New Zealand Sauvignon. You never can get them very good in places like this but it should be alright."

Once he had left the table, Melody glances back to watch him go before she turns back to the wall, raising both eyebrows to herself at this whole evening. She had no idea what she was doing here, but it seemed the best thing to do was just sit back and see what happens. Something that she's not done in a long time, which is what makes her think it's about time she did.

When he returns to the table, she smiles at the sight of the large glass, eyes wandering upward when he speaks. "Oh!" she says, pleasantly surprised and indeed impressed by his knowledge. Too, impressed by his thoughtfulness.

"That's lovely, James. Thank you," she says, going to take hold of the glass to take a needful sip. Definitely needed it for what she was apparently letting herself in for.

"Any time," he says, bringing himself back down into the chair, but this time pulling it around a little, closer towards her. The pub is getting busier of course, louder, so it's no surprise he might need to get closer just to maintain conversation.

Or at least that's one reason.

"You know you shouldn't mix your drinks," he tells her, another gentle tease. "You might have a hell of a headache in the morning." So he's heard, he doesn't tend to get hangovers himself.

Though he'd know all about headaches.

She notices that he chooses to sit himself a little closer, and it does nothing to stop the thought that have started to run through her head. Like, what if he is interested in her? As mad as that sounds, what if he genuinely wants more from her that a casual drink in the pub. What would she do?

She tells herself she's undecided, but there's no denying the tense breath that flows through her as she goes to cross her legs, trying to maintain an image of composure.

"Oh, I'll be alright with just the one," she assures him. She's done the bar scene enough times to know what she can or can't handle.

"Glad to hear it," he agrees, leaning back a little in the chair, lifting one ankle and crossing it over his leg, more like he's sitting at home than in a pub. He looks at her, watches her, his curiosity clear.

"You know I hope you don't mind me saying," he starts, "but you've got some amazing hair there." Even with it damp from the rain, he's almost fascinated by those curls, and even pinned and somewhat restrained as they might be.

"So museum, check. Son down south, check. What else should I know about you, Melody?"

She can't help but smirk slightly when he makes a comment on her hair. She's never been within a man who didn't love those curls. She knows it's one of her more distinguishing features.

"Thank you," she says sincerely to his compliment, looking over to him with a warm smile. Adjusting the position of her wine glass, she fits forward against the table, chuckling when it appears he's running down a checklist.

"I don't know. That depends on what you want to know about me."

The way she smiles, the way she moves, it makes him smile in return. His position almost mirrors hers, and when she leans forward he slips his ankle from his leg and leans forward a little.

"Oh I'd say that depends what you want to tell," he says, almost conspiratorial.

"When was the last time you left your work at work?" he asks. "And I mean really. The last time you said fuck it and just enjoyed yourself?"

Melody purses her lips slightly as she considers before she gives a casual sort of shrug, acting far more relaxed than she normally dared. He was certainly bringing it out of her.

"Hm, I'd say about ten minutes ago," she replies, knowing she's playing his game now. But that's alright. It's ok if she knows he wants that. But any sign of uncertainty from him, and she'd close up again.

If he'd been looking for anything in particular, it seems she's found it, and that answer lights his eyes up a little.

"Ohh I like you," he tells her, smiling, before quickly adding, "good answer."

He takes a long swig from his beer, regarding her before his eyes flick down towards the small pull along suitcase by her feet.

"You know you packed for overnight. It'd be a shame for you to just go back home after you went to all that effort." Teasing, really, because it's hardly effort. Still though, the comment is pointed even if he is playing games.

She laughs when he says he likes her, and she really laughs. Not a flustered sort of chuckle that's trying to hide her insecurities, but full-bodied and warm, the kind of laugh that River used to have, and he used to love.

The mention of her suitcase causes her eyes to dip downward, eyebrows lifting slightly at the implication she was hear in his voice. She doesn't acknowledge it, however, because he has to try a little harder than that.

"Well, I might try and head down tomorrow instead," she replies, a knowing look in her eye, knowing that she's purposely ignored the point to his teasing.

He can tell she's playing with him, and oh he likes that. It's fun when it's a game, a bit of back and forth, giving as good as she got. He knew there was a reason he liked her.

One of his hands lifts, pushes back through his hair, shifting his fringe away from his eyes only for it to fall back again as soon as his hand moves back away. He's silent a moment, watching, waiting until she takes another sip of her drink, and only then does he go on.

"When were you last fucked, Melody?'

It works, because she almost splutters out her mouthful of wine when he asks that question. Both that, and her reaction making a touch of colour come to her cheeks. She covers her mouth to hide any splashes of wine and she gives him a slightly wide-eyed look.

"James!" she scolds as she sets the glass back down, her hand falling away from her lips. She doesn't answer him though - she rather hopes he wasn't expecting an answer - because the truth is a little embarrassing.

The reaction is just what he was hoping for, and he grins a little like a kid at Christmas, laughing audibly as he watches her in her shock.

He watches too the way she blushes. He likes that.

It had been a joke of course, he's only teasing her. But beneath so many a joke lies a truth, and his laughter falls away a little, his eyes almost darker.

"Would you like to be? By me, I mean."

This evening was certainly progressing far quicker than she had expected - not that she'd expected anything at all. But now here she was, being propositioned by a man who had to be twenty years younger than her.

Her cheeks darken a little more and her confidence quickly seems to disappear in light of his question. Flustered, she moves the glass around on the table in front of her.

"James, I thought you wanted to have a drink with me," she begins with an uncertain laugh, like she can't quite see how they've got this far. It wasn't that she was naive to the possibility of him being attracted to her, as surprising as that is, but she had hardly anticipated anything more.

"Hey, relax," he says, his voice gentle, hand lifting to touch to her arm. He's calm about all this, casual even, as if he's offering her one of his crisps not an evening's entertainment guest starring his genitals.

"Just an offer," he says with an almost shrug. "There's no obligation," he laughs a little, a touch of a smile on his lips again.

"And I did want to have a drink with you. I do want to have a drink with you. But when you've finished it I'd also quite like to take you to bed."

She stills at the touch of his hand on her arm, it seeming to ground her nerves and give her enough strength to look at him again, properly look at him. Because when he touches her, she feels more than just the warmth of his skin through her sleeve, but she feels something else too, something she can't quite explain. Whatever it is, it makes his suggestion all the more appealing and she finds herself wanting that touch all over, in places he can't yet see.

She soon appalled by her own thoughts and she blinks slightly, trying to force them away. All that from a simple touch? It really has been a while. But then that's the problem, isn't it? She can barely remember the last time she was with a man, with somebody who cared about her and wanted to make her feel special.

Picking up her wine glass, she takes a needed drink of the contents as she tries to clear her head, even when all she's aware of right now is what he's offering and how much she wants it. No, how much she needs it.

She swallows down the sizeable mouthful, returning the glass to the table and looking at it for a long moment.

"It was a long time ago," she then mutters, raising her eyebrows self depreciatingly to herself, while she keeps her eyes fixed on her wine glass. "Too long ago."

James' eyes barely move from her. His gaze doesn't drop away, nor his touch for a long moment or more. He's not quite sure what it is about her that he finds so enthralling, but he's certain she is. Maybe it's because she's older, a little wiser, a little more experienced, perhaps. He's not really been with an older woman, and it would be a lie to pretend he's not intrigued.

Maybe it's her job, because that's exciting too, isn't it? Someone who does all she does, as important as she is. To think of being somehow commanding over that power. It's a strange thought, an exciting thought.

But there's more than that too, much more that he can't even begin to pin down. Things he has no idea are so close.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he says softly, a touch of a smile returning again.

Her head slowly turns aside at his soft words, watching as he smiles at her. She hesitates, uncertain, but then she too begins to smile. She's still not entirely sure what she's letting herself in for here, but if he's offering something, perhaps she should take it. And not just because it's been a while, but, well, look at him.

As attractive as she's been told she is, that still usually limits her to men in her age category. A man like him, as young as him, should be a missed opportunity from decades ago, from before Toby was even born. But he isn't. He's right here, right now, and maybe things are all happening in the wrong order, but somehow, she's okay with that.

She decides there and then that if she turns this down, she's an idiot. And every woman on the planet over the age of 40 have the right to smack her upside the head.

"You're not having me on, are you? Because if you are ... " she asks then, squinting somewhat. Because she has to be sure, she doesn't want to be foolish and misread all this. She finds it all so difficult to believe, that someone like him could be interested in someone like her.

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