|Characters:||Fawn and Remi de l'Aguille|
|Summary:||On individual treasure hunts, Fawn and Remi cross paths and end up having a long, in depth discussion, and strike up what might be friendship or only a friendly bargain.|
As the dinner hour hits, not long after dark, the antique shop is nearing time to close up shop, but with a crush of possible patrons (a whole four!) spread throughout the maze-like stacks of furniture and knickknacks and just about anything a --junk-- treasure-hunter could wish for, the owner (a smiling woman in her late fifties, currently occupied with detailing the history of one of the chairs, her voice bright in her effort to make a sale carrying over the soft music that plays soundtrack to the hunt.
It's the smaller items, the more personal ones, that have drawn the focus of blue eyes. Remi's outfit, as always, fits him like a second skin, fits him like it was made for him (because it was), but is a disarming heather grey on slacks and vest, shirt rolled up to the elbows a plum color that he pulls off spectacularly. One hand drifts over the frame of a photograph that's a portrait of... who? He turns the frame to look for indications, but no, it seems there's no history to go with this particular face - just another stranger in the store, if in image only.
Is the shop closed yet? A quick look to a sign and a check of the time on her phone lets Fawn know she has enough time to stop in for just a bit, even if it's only long enough to have a quick glance around to see if it's worth revisiting later. After all, how can one pass up an antique store? An antique store in someone's home, at that!? Fawn sure can't.
It's with a bit of a smile upon her lips that Fawn slowly tests the front door to make sure the shop is still, in fact, open, and as the door is pushed forwards she steps in and quietly closes it behind her. She's no door slammer. She stands there giving a quick glance about the shop, eyes scanning the layout and taking note of anyone she can see from her current position, and with the quick check she begins to wander around.
Tonight the young woman is dressed in a dark orange dress made of linen, lined with ruffles and tied with a long ribbon in back, and her feet are slipped into tan sandals. Her hair is half-up, kept out of her face even though unruly strands hang against her cheeks, and she has a small cream colored bag slung low over her shoulder.
Getting a sense of the man replacing the photo frame on its shelf might be a touch challenging from Fawn's current vantage. There's furniture stacked in just such a way as to reveal only bits of him at first - an elbow, his hair, or sharp blue eye between rungs of that chair back. Maybe he works here? No, probably over-dressed for that. He looks like a patron, but that doesn't stop him from strolling smoothly toward the brunette after his eyes have taken in her manner of dress.
Remi's approach is slow, and aside from the fact that he has every obvious subtle can't-put-your-finger-on-it sign that he's a man who knows what he wants and always gets what he wants, there's a lack of anything to suggest that he's on his way to get or claim or plunder, despite whatever treasure hunt he's currently on.
"Good evening," he offers, his voice carrying a cultured edge as he gets closer to Fawn, eyes going over her curiously. "Not much time before the shop closes." He observes in a way that might be meant to invite conversation, but has the quietest inflection of amusement mixed with a 'tsk.' How does Fawn expect to find her treasure when she's arriving so late in the game?
Perhaps Fawn did not notice Remi fully at first, what with all of the looking around and how things are placed, but as the young woman begins to slowly head in her chosen direction she is able to notice him soon enough. With him facing her direction she meets his gaze for just long enough to offer a polite smile of acknowledgment before her golden eyes find something nearby to look at. Oh look. An old tea set. How very cute.
Fawn reaches out with her right hand as if to grasp a spoon set upon the little tray, but the movement caught from the corner of her eye is enough to make her pause. There's something about the man's body language that makes it clear he isn't just wandering her way and looking at things. He's coming over to her, and with that realization she slowly turns her face so she can look at him for longer this time, taking in the sight. She gives a glance over his suit, and for a moment she turns her gaze away, looking to the nearby shelf and back, but only once she hears his voice.
Giving her attention to him once more, Fawn hears his words, which put a little half-smile up for show. "It's a shame. I wish I had been going past earlier.. I'm lucky I even caught sight of it on my way.. But," she pauses there, and with another glance around she admits, "I'm not one to pass up any sort of antique or thrift shop if there's still time to peek in. It's dangerous, though.. I could spend hours in them. So many beautiful things to look over." She chuckles softly at that.
Blood wants what it wants, and that makes Remi a predator, even when he's doing his utmost to be disarming. (Spoiler alert: he still looks sharp in all the ways that might be concerning - sharply dressed, sharp-witted, probably sharp-tongue - definitely sharp-fanged, but those aren't out right now. It's part of his curse to appear as he does. Such is unlife. Poor Remi.)
He keeps the carefully acceptable bubble of distance between himself and the brunette (maybe even a little extra, just in case), but he does place a hand on the top of a desk that's doubling as a stand for a number of vases of various shapes and sizes. "I've heard it said that sometimes, an object has a way of holding that which it's experienced. Walking through a place like this makes me wonder about the stories they'd tell. About the stories any of the objects that have passed through my own hands would tell, if they learned the right way to speak the tale." It's equal parts interesting philosophical and supernatually unnerving for the possibility of too much truth existing in those words.
"Perhaps I'm the lucky one." That might be a line, but there's no sense of sexual interest being directed toward the young woman from the older man's body language. "Your dress, is it from another time of looking through beautiful things?" That before he admits with a half smile and single-shouldered shrug, "Places like this like to whisper to those that will hear, 'what if' and who are we to deny the question if there's time." Although his English accent is flawless, the more Remi speaks, the more it becomes slowly apparent that the way he pairs his words is not the way a native speaker would do it. That might account for some of the strangeness.
Fawn's attention is soon fully on Remi, drawn in by the way the man holds himself, speaks, even stands. It's almost as if his presence alone demands attention, and so she finds herself turning to face him just a bit more as he rests his hand on the desk. Her eyes travel to said hand and back, lifting again to his face as she drinks in the words and gives a small nod to show her agreement.
"Yes.. I would have to say you're.. spot on. Objects can certainly hold on to feelings.. emotions. I wouldn't be surprised if many held secrets they wish they could share," she says, eyes cutting away then to look to a small Russian nesting doll on the shelf. She lifts it delicately and holds it upon a palm, opening it slowly with her other hand to take a peek inside and see what has been painted beneath. Her brows lift a quick jump, and she starts to smile more, delighted by what she sees. She moves to take the next doll out so she may continue to open them, when Remi's words catch her off guard.
Keeping her face angled slightly towards the dolls, her lashes lift and eyes cut to him, and she gives a faint, short laugh at the 'lucky' line. It makes her stand a bit taller afterwards, and she pauses her inspection of the dolls. "Yes," she eventually answers. "I buy most of what I wear from little shops like these.. I tend to be drawn toward vintage pieces or.. things that are just more.." she pauses to find a fitting word, "Precious? than what is in stores now." Like the baggy sweatshirts and crop-tops. "I'll wear some things I find in other stores, of course, but I like things with character.." She pauses before complimenting, "Your suit is really nice. It fits you well."
Fawn can't know, but Daevas do that. It's the way of the Serpent to be remarkable, notable, often beautiful as Remi is. The dolls are an excuse for the man to step into that personal bubble of space, but not too intimately, just enough to turn his palms up and offer additional space for Fawn to place the ever smaller discoveries within the first. It's the automatic sort of thing a friend might have done, had they come here together and not just meeting for the first time. Still, the distance is kept polite unless Fawn shows sign of wanting to make use of those two extra hands, fine-fingered, but long-calloused. A workman's hands by sharp contrast to the way his dress presents him.
"It's a lovely piece. Your dress. The detail is commendable." Remi's voice is cool, generally, but it warms as he speaks of the article of fashion. "Vintage is one of my favorite words," he adds, his half smile becoming a small but full one. "It's rare to find one of your years appreciative of the history of things." Thus, the Kindred is intrigued. His eyes flick down to his suit after a moment and his lips curl. "I thank you for your notice." Definitely foreign. "I am Rémi de l'Aguille," that's with a full French accent (reh-MI deh lah-gwheel). "And you, mademoiselle? Have you a name to share?"
Fawn's gaze remains upon Remi as he steps closer, and with the hand offered she gives him another little smile, eyebrows relaxing a little as she becomes more comfortable with his presence being so close. She places the largest top half onto his palm, then removes the next doll, going about taking it apart and using his hand when she needs until she has satisfied her curiosity and seen each layer of the item.
As she goes about putting the pieces back together, Fawn begins to smile more, and she lowers her voice to softly offer, "Thank you.. I like it a lot. It's probably one of my favorites. Makes me feel.." she lifts her shoulders to shrug gently as she gives a tiny shake of her head, "Like a princess? Almost. Not that I ever cared much for the whole princess story. It makes me feel as though I could go wandering into a field of wildflowers and lie back and nap. Or just disappear on a long walk through a meadow or forest." She then laughs a bit, looking mildly embarrassed afterwards, asking, "Does that sound strange?"
Fawn is laughing a bit more, and when her laughter calms she is taking the doll and putting it back on the shelf. "Remi de l'Aguille," she repeats, trying her very best to pronounce it correctly as well as remember it. "It's nice to meet you.. I'm Fawn," pause, "Granger. Sorry.. I always do that." She starts to chuckle softly once more. "Not as interesting as yours.. It's French, yes? I've never been to France. Always thought it might be nice to travel there one day. I enjoy traveling," she tells him.
Remi's movement closer this time is a drift, just enough that he doesn't have to stretch his arms out to offer that extra space for her exploration. It's good, though, because it means that low-voiced confession is easier made a conspiracy between the two of them. There's a chuckle from the man that is some harmony with Fawn's own, meeting her embarrassed look with an easy smile. "Not in the least. I don't know that I've met any Princesses who liked their story, but I think plenty like feeling the way they're said to in stories. One of the greatest gifts material things can grant us is the boon to our mood, or the opportunity to reflect that which we might not share otherwise."
He opens his mouth, closes it the reconsideration obvious in his face before he tilts his chin and smiles. "If we knew one another better, Fawn," he makes it sound natural despite the fact that he comes from an era when first-name basis meant something much more intimate than they do now, "I would tell you we could go find such a field, that flowers can be beautiful in moonlight. If this were a fairy story, such things would require no hesitation. But, alas." He acknowledges the variety of personal safety concerns brought by reality. Not that he couldn't make all that go away, but for one of the Kindred, he exercises quite a lot of restraint.
"Perhaps," he offers the alternative after glancing around the shop, hearing the proprietor concluding business with the customer that had occupied her, "it would be safe enough to allow me to buy you a drink? There's a little late-night cafe around the corner. I could tell you about France." There's a little nod to confirm the name's origins. "Or Italy. Or... wherever, really. And you could tell me more about your travels?" He's offering an exchange, even apparent (laughable) safety. Maybe this monster has manners.
Fawn is paying close attention to Remi's take on the princess comment, and it leaves her smiling a bit more and staying in place, showing no signs that she wishes for more space from the man. When he speaks of flowers in the moonlight the look on her face softens a bit more, and she finds herself leaning in just slightly as if hanging on those words.. but yes. Such an invitation might be a bit much for strangers, no matter how wonderful a suggestion it is, but a drink? There's no harm in that.
Fawn gives a slow nod to the suggestion, all treasure-hunting forgotten about, and she says, "I think I would enjoy that," though she does look elsewhere for just a moment, glancing to the side once more to look at something there on the shelf. She studies it thoughtfully before giving her full attention back to Remi, a little smile inching its way onto her lips once more. "A drink sounds nice.. and I would love to hear all about it, though I warn you, I doubt tales of my traveling are anywhere near as interesting or exciting," she says with another little laugh.
As she turns to take a few slow steps towards the exit she says, "I -would- like to hear where there are fields of flowers around here, though. I'd love to see them at night. I've never thought about that, but I do spend a lot of my time watching the stars at night.. It's soothing. I've always enjoyed it. No matter what's going on in my life, just.. lie back and watch them and.. sort of lose myself in it, like time no longer matters.. or nothing else matters. How can it, when the world is so big and you're but a tiny speck in the universe?" She gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders as she walks along.
Perhaps it was the talk of princesses, or maybe it's just Remi's natural inclination to offer his arm to Fawn in a sincere mimic of princely style, in case she should care to have proper escort to said drink. "You may underestimate my interest," Remi's expression warms with humor as he speaks the words. "It's the suit," he confides low. "People see it and assume, 'oh, see Remi? He is a man who likes only things polished and perfect,' but between you and I, I am much more intrigued by the minutiae, by the flawed but beautiful. Even the flawed and ugly, but I don't suspect you shall fall into that category unless the secrets of your heart are astounding indeed." He really does speak like a story book sometimes, but maybe he can't help it. Forgive the Frenchman? Since some of his accent does color those words, perhaps that's distracting enough to allow the brain to just excuse the mannerisms that make him a man out of his time.
"I will have to see if the fields I remember are still fields or if they have been bulldozed for expansion. I've visited this city before, but it was a long time ago. Much has changed in the years since. I'm in the process of settling back in," the man makes a little gesture back toward the shop they're departing. "Never know when you're going to find something to help make you feel you are home even when you are nowhere near. Perhaps a little like you and the stars. You must know, of course, that a star is only tiny speck in the universe, too, and see how much light and joy it can share?" He flashes a side-long smile to the young woman.
"How else do you enjoy to spend your life? Flowers and stars and whispered stories," another nod back toward the building to indicate what he means. "What else?" For all that he doesn't seem to be coming onto the brunette, Remi's interest is personal and intense in his gaze that lingers on her face, like he might consider her answers vital.
Fawn glances to the arm being offered, and she watches it for a moment. One could certainly see the wheels a turning up in that brain of hers, for she takes a few seconds before deciding that she will, in fact, take the offered arm. However, Fawn takes the arm by lifting her hand and gently resting her hand atop it, just touching enough to be polite as they make their way out of the shop.
She is laughing gently at what Remi says about the suit, and it makes her smile wider, something she hasn't shown up until this point in the conversation. She's no longer holding back, and a bit of her true self finally surfaces. The grin widens more and she admits, "I.. thought that when I first saw you. I'm surprised to hear you like the imperfect.. Are they more interesting to you?" Her brows lift slightly at that, and she grins a little once more at hearing her assumed category. "My secrets? Ahh.. Nothing absolutely terrible. Just a string of bad decisions mixed in with everything else, but that could be said for anyone, no?"
That little grin returns after and she glances away, looking in the direction in which they walk. She takes a slow, deep breath while listening more about the fields, which draw a slight frown, knowing they are likely gone by now if they were there years ago, but the frown disappears at the comment about stars. That earns a little glance and a softer look. "True.. Didn't think about it that way.." And just to check she glances up, tilting her head back so her eyes may seek out what stars are already out.
"Mmm.." she begins while looking at the sky. "Music," is her first answer. "That's what I love most. I enjoy playing and singing. I'm not always the best at expressing how I feel or what I'm thinking.. so it's almost.. healing? In a way," she pauses, "To find a song that encapsulates what's going on in my head.. and let it out. People could hear it and think it's just a song, and what would they know? It'd be therapeutic to me and entertaining to them.. And I get paid." Smile.
The scoff Remi gives is feigned, but obviously so. It's clear that had he the need, he could certainly pull off the persona of the off-putting snob. But a tiny movement of his brows makes his expression verge on something nearly playful, nevermind that it would appear to stretch the bounds of his cultivated and cultured looks. "What is 'perfect' really, but an unreachable ideal abused by those too cowardly to embrace the strength a truly resplendent flaw gives a person? Something that is said to be perfect is not truly so, even if the word perfect - which is itself imperfect - is the best way we have in our poor lexicon to describe it." The Daeva flashes a smile that lacks self-consciousness but does hold some measure of apology, "Forgive me. I have been told I like the sound of my own voice too well some days. In fact, I do hold high regard for the imperfect. I would be hard pressed to say what I liked better, though. There are such mysteries and puzzles in both."
He does watch Fawn as she searches for those stars, a few perhaps seen between touches of clouds spotting the night sky, a smile fleetingly touching his lips before a brow lifts at the first answer she gives. "Playing and singing, how multi-talented. I hope you will give me the pleasure of hearing you sometime in the future." He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly, some small calculation passing before the look fades into renewed interest. "What is it that you play? It does seem a gift you may offer from which you benefit in turn." That's not all he wants to know though, by far the most penetrating question is, "What is it you have been singing lately?" Especially now that she's admitted such things to be her therapy.
Golden eyes peer at the clouds and few stars she can find, and they shift over towards Remi when he speaks of perfection. A growing smile steals her lips, and though she starts to give him a slightly mischievous look, she doesn't seem to mind the way he speaks at all. It's soon confirmed as she says, "I enjoy listening to you. So please don't limit yourself on my account.." She chuckles at that, then glances back to the sky.
She wears a little, happy smile while walking beside Remi, and she first answers his question of what she plays. "Guitar," she says with a fond look. "I've been playing since I was about.. Mmm.. Ten or so? Had to find a way to entertain myself, so why not pick up an instrument? I really enjoyed it, and when I discovered I could do it well?" Brows lift and she grins again. "It was easy to go play on the street and make some cash to save and.. you know." She doesn't turn down that road. She leaves it.
Fawn's light smile is almost constant on her face now, but when asked what songs she is currently singing she purses her lips and takes an unnecessary slow, deep breath. It's exhaled with a soft mrr, and she admits, "I.." Where to even begin? The soundtrack to her life may as well be a mix tape at this point. "I was.. sort of singing love songs," a little pause there. "Till I.. got the stupid idea to sort of.. work two together.. and sing it for the guy I like.. It's," she pauses again, now looking forward as they walk. "It's not a good feeling when your everything is there on display, and it's met with silence and an 'I'm sorry'." She gives a little 'heh' at that, and looks farther down, paying more attention to the earth now instead of sky.
Fawn's chuckle and answer prompt a smile to spread on Remi's lips, a brow drawing high for a moment before he laughs, a low and rich sound, "That may be a dangerous proposition. You might learn enough of me to become quickly bored." It's possible, though the tone of amusement implies he thinks it unlikely. "But as a gesture of good faith," that Fawn speaks true in not minding his tangents, "I will tell you a secret." He leans in a little, perhaps enough for the scent of cedar and just a touch of some kind of spicy cologne to reach the nose. "There was a time when I could not wear a suit. That is why I wear them now. Because it is a simple joy to me to exercise the freedom to do so. But I don't always wear suits."
Remi's arm is steady under Fawn's lightest touch. All in all, there's no sign or signal that walking the distance toward the cafe whose sign can now be seen some distance ahead was, in any way, a dangerous idea. Stranger danger, it seems, doesn't always pan out, even when the stranger is Kindred. "Discovering one's talent is a joy rarely paralleled, particularly if that talent can be used to make a better life." He nods his assent to the musician's words, but doesn't currently press her for more. When her expression changes, his attention sharpens. His opposite hand comes up to cover the one on his arm, simple gesture of support for what she has to say - unless she doesn't wish it, in which case the hand would certainly withdraw.
There's silence for a moment as she finishes speaking before Remi's voice, soft and understanding, makes an acknowledgement that doesn't seek to cure her of the experience of her emotions. "There is risk in life as there is in art. Offering of yourself, your true self, takes courage. Unfortunately, not all such bravery is always rewarded, but may I applaud you for taking the chance?" He stops walking, well short of their destination still, turning to face the brunette and offer a very genuine sympathetic smile. "I know it does not help to know that the wound will serve you, nor that wisdom can be gained through the experience, so may I simply say... that sucks." He has to know that those two very modern words sound funny coming out of his lips because he's smiling at the musician with warmth in his eyes that suggests very much that lightening the moment may be his goal.
When the two come to a halt Fawn turns slightly toward Remi, though she finds other things to look at. A nearby parked car. A street light. Anything really, to keep her eyes away from the man she shares conversation with. It takes her a moment to slowly look at him, her expression hinting at those underlying feelings of turmoil when she does, and she listens carefully. When he tells her 'that sucks', he gets what he was aiming for, and she has a bright smile on her face in an instant, laughing out perhaps a bit louder than she expected herself to. She lifts her free hand to cover her mouth, and as she starts to blush a bit from the outburst she is shaking her head.
"Yes. It sucks." Her laughter dies down and her smile goes softer, and she gives a one-shouldered shrug, turning to try and begin walking with him once more. "He didn't say that.. there was no chance of ever being together in.. some way, just," she pauses, giving a mildly bewildered shake of her head. "He wants me to slow down and find myself and.. just a bunch of other stuff like it's some quest I have to go on before he'll admit what I already know and feel to be true. So.. Here I am at the start of my journey. A lot of deep digging." She gives a soft groan at that, but after it passes she gives a tiny smirk, a spark finding her eye.
"I just hope I can find enough to where when he realizes I've found it, he'll kick himself." She smirks a little more, then blushes again. She wipes the smirk from her face and says quickly, "I.. That probably sounded mean, didn't it? I'm not trying to be mean.. He's not a bad guy. He's amazing, really. I'm.. just hurt. That's all." She looks away again. As she walks along she breathes another little sigh, then asks, "Why could you not always wear a suit before? Did you.. never have the opportunity to own one?" she decides to ask. Better than asking if you were too poor to.
There's a brief look of pleasure for having earned the laugh and the hand covering hers gives a brief encouraging squeeze. "Hope is important," he acknowledges. He does not say hope is dangerous, but every individual either knows or learns this fact of life sooner or later. "Does he know you well? To be able to say that you do not know your own heart?" This is a simple question, posed as the Kindred shifts to direct them back into motion. "Or is it you who questions what you know of yourself? Who is 'Fawn' anyway?" There's more than a little interest in the way he slants a thoughtful glance toward the brunette.
His smile blooms this time as wry and forgiving. "In matters of the heart they say all is fair be it love or war. Surely you've heard the phrase. If that includes a healthy touch of revenge to feel alive... you are only human, after all." There's a little shrug. "I might wish worse on someone who told me I did not know the depths of myself. It is one thing for me to engage on such a quest myself, but to be told I must, as though the validity of my heart's message were some prize to be earned." He makes a tsking sound. "Do you want me to beat him up?" The offer is off-handed, still amused and surely this cultured man in his heather grey vest and slacks and plum shirt can't mean it. Can he? "Or have him beaten up, rather. My hands are more valuable to me without bruises."
There's a moment before he turns his chin a little to look down at Fawn, expression curious once more. "So, if this is your journey, what is it you hope to get out of it? Please spare my sensibilities that it you will let it be for someone other than spectacular you." He says sensibilities like he might be some kind of elderly mentor, for all that he only looks about ten years older than the woman on his arm.
Glancing up to Remi about the time he glances down to her, Fawn makes a face, scrunching her nose slightly and allowing her brows to relax more, and then she admits, "I'm never really felt like I knew my whole self.. So he has a point. I never really thought about it.. Where I am in life, where I want to be? When I met him I was dealing with other feelings. Feelings I had for this girl who is my friend.. He was there and it was an instant connection, like he was my best friend and I had lost touch with him over the years and finally we were back together.." she murmurs. "It felt right and.. that's what it was. But the more we would talk and hang out, I felt myself falling in love with him. I never wanted it to happen, and I never.. sought it with him, but it just happened. Something I really couldn't deny," she says with a lopsided smile.
"I was angry with him after I poured my heart out to him. Angry.. and hurt and confused.. Part of me just.. expected him to say he was in love with me too, and, I dunno.. Just be happy together like that? But he just brought up more questions, and it left me feeling like I don't even have a clue about who I am." Her lips tug to the side. "So now I just feel lost.. So in a way it feels like he knows me well enough to ask.. It's hard, but I think he has the best intentions for me. It.. just sucks," she says, sending Remi a little grin at that.
She looks away again and says, "I don't see it as a prize to be earned.. More like.. I think he wants me to be sure about everything before I go down that path with him. His life has been rough, and it still is in some ways. I feel like he just wants me to know what I'm getting myself into?" She pauses, then laughs a bit. "Sorry. That probably just sounds really strange.. Sorry." She shakes her head slightly, then giggles. "And no. Please don't send anyone to hurt him. I may be upset, but I still love him and would never wish that upon him.. But thank you for the offer."
That brings her to Remi's last question, and she pauses, looking up to him again. "When I first moved here I didn't know anyone.. I quickly found a group that I fit in with. They sort of.. took me in as one of their own.. and now I feel like I need to find a way to be.. useful to them? Eh, Useful is a poor word choice. I want to be helpful. So I'm going to have to find a way to do that.. I want to better myself, I suppose. Maybe prove to myself I -am- as amazing as I know I am?" she questions, looking like she doesn't quite believe it. She looks away once more. "I don't know. But I do know I want to help my new friends as best I can, so I'm going to start there."
Remi's pace slows before they get to the cafe now only a few doors down, giving Fawn the time to speak and for him to listen without the distractions that the humanity surely within the late-night gathering place will offer for the pair. He listens to the whole without trying to interrupt nor indicating anything other than understanding as he gives a nod here and a slight smile there. The smile broadens when that magic phrase comes up again and he gives Fawn a return knowing look along with a more profound inclination of his head.
"I have many quotes for times such as these," the well-dressed man playing escort volunteers finally. "'Not all who wander are lost,' 'the heart has its reasons where reason knows nothing,' and so on. They are nothing more than a way to frame a truth I would like to share with you." He stops now, turning again to face Fawn and this time he moves a hand so he can with one gentle finger, tip her face up to look at him. "The journey you are on began long ago and will continue for a lifetime or more beyond the point that you feel you have found what you're presently looking for, Fawn. Caution is part of evaluating and sometimes avoiding risk. Sometimes it's wise, sometimes it's an excuse. Feelings grow and change as much as we do. Nurture and nature both matter. But much as we cannot control those things that come upon us and force us to grow or change, we likewise cannot control how feelings evolve." It's cautionary but also candid. "I wish you luck, Fawn." A beat. "Remember whatever path you find needs to be right for you, whether that leads you toward him, or your other friend, or someone entirely new. Walking the wrong path is like singing the wrong song. You can make it beautiful through your skill, but it doesn't give your heart wings." He smiles a little, perhaps even a little sadly. His hand drops away from her face, letting his shoulders rise and fall in a subtle shrug.
"It's good, regardless, that you have people upon whom you may rely. It can be a lonely city." That rings with the weight of personal experience. "I have no doubt you will find the proof you need. Shall we go in? They make a wonderful cappuccino here. Their selection of wine isn't bad, either. And they make a chocolate mousse to die for." He gestures toward the cafe.
"Ah," an afterthought and he leans a little toward the brunette. "They do not dress orphans in the finest suits at the orphanage." He was poor once. So very poor. Still, sad as that story must be, he seems far enough removed from it that now he can make this joke to answer her question about his suits.
With her face upturned and eyes on Remi, Fawn takes his words seriously, eyes locked upon his own as if giving him every bit of focus she could muster would make his words stick in her brain. She nods slightly while listening, and by the end there is a soft smile to show. She looks as though she now has even more to think about, but that'll have to wait.
Fawn lowers her chin and glances towards the cafe, heaving a gentle sigh now that they have reached their destination, and she puts on another little smile while nodding and saying, "Yes, please.. I haven't had chocolate mousse in a long time. It sounds wonderful." She grins a little more at that and takes a step towards the door, however, she hesitates when hearing why Remi never used to wear suits. It causes her to look up at him for a bit, and she says, "Orphanage.." That's an odd choice, isn't it? "I grew up in foster care until I was able to save up enough and get out on my own. Once I had everything ready to go I never looked back.." She pauses again to look him over in the suit once more, and she gives a slow smile. "That suit does look -really- good on you." With that she moves to head into the cafe.
Remi doesn't miss a beat. "Foster care. That is what they call it here, I am reminded." He smiles with a briefly abashed look. "My English is long practiced but unfortunately not without its flaws. Do forgive me." It's definitely just a mistranslation, Fawn, and not that Remi is a few hundred years old. It's fiiiine. Everything's normal.
He shifts to follow her toward the cafe, to get the door and hold it open for her. He makes chivalrous gesture for her to precede him into the establishment, from which low music emanates and dimmed lights. The cafe, it would seem has some live entertainment this evening. "It should," Remi flashes a distracting grin. "I made it." If the (true) ploy serves its purpose, he can escort her into the building and to the al fresco counter to place orders for the aforementioned delights, the suited man nonchalantly paying for their order with aplomb but not in a way that suggests he's doing any more than treating a friend.
"I commiserate with your choice to not settle for that which was given to you upon your birth. Or later. It would be insensitive of me to ask the circumstance or what you didn't look back at, but should you ever wish for an understanding ear, perhaps I can give you my number. You'll need it to let me know when next you're performing." The smile this time is charming, but it's also sincere.
You made the suit?" Fawn asks, sounding surprised, which gets it yet another once over. "I'm impressed," she notes as she walks into the cafe, face still turned and looking it over. "So that's what you do, is it? You.. design clothing? Or do you sew for fun in your free time?" she asks in a teasing sort of way as she follows along and to the counter, her smile turning impish as her eyes glitter at him. She managers a soft snickering sound as she then turns to the counter, and when the order is paid for she smiles, saying, "Thank you."
While waiting for the order, Fawn glances off to the live music, listening to the combination of it and Remi's words, and when her gaze finds him again she nods, saying, "Sure. That sounds great.. And if you do design clothing, I may be interested in a dress shirt or two," she says before she pulls her phone from her bag and goes about adding his name to the contacts. She'll add the number as well when given. "I usually play out in Jackson Square, but sometimes I'll play in cafes or clubs, depending on the sort of open mic night they're having.. I'll let you know when I play again, but you have to promise you won't listen to my music too hard. Can't have you knowing that's what's going on in my head," she says with a playful grin.
"It's how I started," Remi replies with a smile. "Now I do many things." His voice is rich with amusement at the impish look, his lips still pressed to one another in spite of the smile lingering there. His eyes flick briefly to the musician, attention paid, but more is given to Fawn herself. He lists of the number efficiently. "Text me to be sure you have it correct?" He suggests with a smile that makes transparent the request for her number in exchange.
"I do design from time to time, though it's no longer my primary occupation." He kindly does not tell Fawn she couldn't afford him. There's such a thing as a friend's discount, right? Probably. Maybe. What he does go on to say is, "It so happens that I've an event or two upcoming for which I'm in need of a date - a friend," he clarifies, "lest I be beset by youthful divorcees before I'm through the door. How would you like to be my date and I'll dress you? You can take home what I make for you. I might be convinced into making a dress shirt or two while I'm at it."
While he bargains, there is some thought going into her words about where she plays and what he ought not do. "I'm afraid I can make no promises, Fawn. I have a tendency to interpret what I witness without intention. What I can tell you is that whatever I hear, your secrets are safe with me and you'll find no judgment from this quarter." That much seems sincere, though he makes no real apology for not engaging in polite prevarications.
Fawn takes a moment to send a message (Hi! It's Fawn :)) to Remi so he will have her number before she is slipping her phone back into her bag, soon after looking up to Remi once more with quite the curious expression. "You mean to tell me you stepped away from designing, which you are clearly more than skilled at.. to do something else? Now I'm -very- curious to hear what you're even better at." That causes a slender brow to arch as she watches him, the girl trying to tame the quirky grin that's threatening the right corner of her mouth. To keep it quiet she gently bites into her cheek. There. That'll show it. Too bad she can't hide the amusement in her gaze.
When Remi then tells her about an event or two, Fawn's brows lift quickly and she says, "Oh?" surprised. Her lips purse in thought, but she's smiling soon enough as she says, "That sounds.. great, actually. I haven't really gone to any events here," she muses before a thought hits her. She grins slightly and cants her head just a bit while keeping her eyes on him and saying, "I am curious to see what you would have me wear. You know what I like.." She chuckles softly. "Will he choose something I would pick for myself? Or will he dress me in something I'd never dream of putting on?" she asks out loud, lifting a finger to playfully tap at her chin. "Hmmm." her eyes squint at him a bit, and then she smiles again.
Fawn lowers her tapping finger to rest her hand at her side again, and soon she is saying, "That will have to do," about keeping her secrets. "Thank you." She starts to give another amused grin now. Who knows what that mind is tossing around.
Fawn's humor is met in kind with Remi's. If she wished to laugh, certainly he would not stop her. "That will have to be a story for another time, alas. I've just noticed the time and must, with my deepest regret, abandon you to your delights." He gestures just as the order appears on the counter and he casts a smile over. "Have my mousse, if you like, by way of apology." But he will take the drink with him, if only for show.
"We'll be in touch. I'm certain between the two of us, we can find something appropriate to the occasion that suits your tastes. I'll make my best guess for the first time, and if it works out, we can see about some input on the second." Fair, right? Since he's not asking her to pay for the materials, only the donation of time and patience to whatever it is he needs to be doing. Whatever mysterious thing. It's not weird.
"Much as I wish to do otherwise, I bid you a good evening, fair Fawn, and I shall look forward to the next time we meet." It's all very chivalrous. These could all be lines, they really could. On anyone else they would be, but Remi still lacks something that would set the nerves to niggling and simply tips his head as though to offer an echo of a bow from a bygone era, a different mode of showing respect and concluding one's business. Maybe it's all the news about COVID-19, but then... he did already touch her so...? Maybe not. With that, he goes, strolling as nonchalantly has he approached her toward the exit, drink in hand (at least until he passes the trash bin down the block and around the corner).
--Fawn gives the slightest frown upon hearing Remi needs to be headed out, but her smile is back just as quick and she's giving a nod to him. "It's alright.. Thank you for the company," she offers, "And conversation. You're rather polite and well-spoken. It's.. strange, but in a nice way," she compliments, laughing softly before hushing it as she looks down. Soon she's giving a glance back to their items before she says, "I look forward to seeing what you come up with.. It was nice meeting you, Remi. Have a good night." And with that she gives him another smile, then turns to collect the mousse and settle in to listen to the live music.