Summary:Robbie shows up at Raven's place and they chat. A date is offered, and accepted. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Its been a few days since Robbie had seen Raven last. Almost a week, actually.
So, he pulls out his cellphone after driving around the college for a bit, before heh eads down to East Village. He texts Raven for her address, but of course, it starts off with the 'hey, how are you? Want to do something crazy?' kind of friend texts. Innocent really, and not implying anything particularly dangerous or downright stupid.
Robbie was just driving around in his Charger until she managed to reply, looking for any scum-of-the-earth to wreak some vengeance upon.
Rachel's been busying herself with re-grounding after her outing with the guys. She's done some research about getting into the art program at the college, and has been working on making her portfolio to apply. She's running with the photo series she'd thought of a week or so ago, when she first met Robbie in that greasy spoon. She's been really preoccupied with that stuff, and it's been very refreshing. She's feeling pretty normal and good, lately.
So, when her phone makes the dootle-doot to tell her that she's being texted, she picks it up and reads. Robbie Reyes. Wants to know where she lives. She thinks back to what Alex told her about Robbie. Well, what Alex /thought/, anyway. She ruffles the hair on the back of her head as she paces, trying to figure out how to respond. After a minute, she figures, 'welp, fuck it,' and texts him her address. Then, she immediately begins picking things up around her place. Also, she puts on clothes, so she's decent and company-ready. Then, she sits on her couch, feeling oddly nervous. She takes a nice, long bonghit or five before Robbie buzzes her apartment. Checking his appearance in the camera feature on her doorbell, she buzzes him in, "C'mon up," her voice comes through to him. She lives on the top floor, but there's a freight elevator that can be used. It's only eight flights of stairs.
Robbie gets that text back after about fifteen minutes and she gives him her address! Thats a good sign, right? She could have sent him the 'fuck off' emoji or something. But, he parks his car in front of her home after about thirty minutes (to at least make it seem like he wasn't totally just chillin' a few blocks away) and when he's let inside and yes, he takes the freight elevator.
He just finished burning a rapist alive for gods sake, he's taking the bloody elevator.
Then he's free and he knocks on her door rhythmically. "Just checking to see if its locked or not." Robbie's voice echoes humorously through.
Rachel opens the door almost instantly after the knock. As though she was waiting for it. With the sudden shifting of air, Robbie can smell both the spicy, cinnamon-y incense that normally scents her place, but also the rich odor of some really nice kush. She has a prescription, for her anxiety, but she doesn't generally have to worry about explaining it to anyone. She's on the top floor and she usually keeps her windows cracked when she smokes. She'd rather her place didn't end up permanently smelling like a skunk farted in there.
"Hi. Come in," she says swinging her arm in and not making eye contact right away. Her apartment is one of those really nice loft apartments with a very open, breezy floorplan with half-walls in some places, and no walls in others, decorated in the same dark tastes, but also kind of whimsical and quirky,that she seems to embody. A large, large wall of windows graces her living area, with a beautiful view of the city below, tinted to give her privacy, but allow her to look out to her heart's content. Her furniture looks stylish and comfortable. The place looks nice, but lived-in, not necessarily magazine ready. This place must cost a fortune.
Robbie looks at Rachel when she immediately opens the door, though the scent is strong, he has smelled much…much….MUCH worse (like crispy human carcass, for example) and so he's not exactly bothered by the strong scent. But when she welcomes him in, Robbie does indeed enter, but he noticeably keeps his jacket on, though he takes his gloves off. He just…can't believe how fancy this place is.
"This place must've cost a fortune. You a rich girl and not tell me?" Robbie asks Rachel as he moves over to the couch, but he doesn't quite sit down.
After all, he doesn't know what kind of manners he's going to need, this is kind of a new one for him too. "anyway, I had a question for you, and its totally fine if you say yes or no." and Robbie has no idea what Rachel talked about with Alex.
Rachel closes the heavy door behind Robbie as he steps in and moves into her apartment-proper. She follows along behind him, and to one side, watching him take in her digs, wondering what's going through his head, keeping herself from sampling his empathic aura too freely. She notes he doesn't take his jacket off, so that might mean something. That he's not planning on staying long? She's not sure, but she makes a mental note of it.
When he speaks up, she straightens up and whips her arms behind her back, as though he caught her doing something she shouldn't. "Oh, yeah. It cost a lot, but I figured it was an investment. I don't really think I'm rich, but I have a trust fund that helps me get by, since I don't have a job and I'm not sure what I'm gonna do…" She lifts her shoulders a bit, wondering if she is, in fact, a rich girl. She's much better off than many people, that's true. But, she doesn't think of herself as 'rich.' She clears her throat and kind of sways back and forth before she decides on sitting in her favorite chair in the living room, which is next to a comfortable, stylish couch, and a few other armchairs placed strategically around a low, glass coffee table, on which her beautiful black-glass and mother of pearl bong is sitting. "Please, make yourself comfortable. What's your question?" she says, gesturing at the available seating.
Robbie looks at Robbie when she admits that she's not rich, but has a trust fund…like there's an obvious difference between the two, because either way she has a ton of cash available to her so she can live comfortably. Something Robbie very much so doesn't have. But at her insistance, he takes a seat on the couch near her favorite chair. He notices the bong, but clearly has no interest in it at all.
Despite all of his problems, he probably doesn't smoke.
"So, I found out that the college, Empire State, is having a sort of homecoming dance for students. Only students no about it, so security don't check for ID. I was thinking about crashing it and I was wondering if you might…you know, want to go with me?"
Rachel sits back in her favorite chair, a very large, oversized arm chair that she can draw her feet up and snuggle into the back of it with ease. She hugs her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. She's wearing a baggy white t-shirt with the words 'Normal People Scare Me' emblazoned on it, and it slouches off of one shoulder, revealing she's got a tank top beneath it, and she's got black leggings on, again, but she's in socks, instead of having shoes on. Her hair is swept up in a high, messy ponytail, and her makeup is minimal, compared to when she's out and about. No lipstick, but a clear gloss, and some light blush, a hint of eyeshadow. Nothing fancy. She chews on her lower lip as Robbie asks the question, her lavender eyes searching his face as the silence stretches out a bit.
"Well," she inhales deeply, "I'm thinking about it. I…" She trails off, trying to figure out how to say what she's thinking. "I spent a lot of time studying when I was younger, during the years I'd have gone to high school and done the going-to-dances thing, when I'd have done the learn-how-to-date thing… So, I really wanna have that experience," she pauses, again. Then, "You're sure they don't check ID?"
Robbie watches all the tells. Raven chews her lower lips, she seems to be really debating it, then she seems to pause for a moment before she finally asks if he was sure they wouldn't check ID. "Positive. My source is pretty trusted." he lifts a hand, doing a shitty impression of a boy scout. "scouts honor."
Then he looks at her for a moment, wondering what she'd look like in a dress…IF she'd even wear a dress. What would he wear? a pitch black suit probably. If they were going to go out on a dance date, they might as well go full throttle. "If it helps you feel better, I dropped out of high school to take care of my brother. So…I didn't have that dances or date experience either. Though I'm told they're pretty fun."
Rachel exhales when he gives her the assurance that IDs aren't checked. She's not sure she wants an excuse not to do this. She really wants to have that experience, the going to the dance, having a fun time… She's watched so many movies with this kinda stuff in them and she always felt sad that she'd never have the opportunity to make those memories. So, here's opportunity, knocking at her door. In the form of Robbie Reyes. Who's looking at her with his heterochromatic eyes. Waiting for an answer.
"Okay," she says, finally. Even though her face seems calm, now, she's actually exercising super zen techniques, to keep her empathy powers in check. She's really nervous, her stomach is a swarm of butterflies and her heart feels like it's galloping. But, she seems calm. She holds up a hand, showing she wants to make a note. "I meant what I said at the pizza place, when I was talking to Dwayne."
She pauses and thinks about how to phrase it. "I'm not good at commitment. It scares me. I've never dated anyone and I don't even know if I'd be good at it. Just becase we go to this dance, have a date?" she sounds unsure if that's what it is, but she continues… "Even so, I don't want this to mean we're dating. 'Cause I'm positive I'll screw it up, somehow. We have to work together, when it's needed. We're newly friends. I suck at socializing, 'cause, well. Empathy stuff and it's really hard to strike a balance. Personable, but not too personable. How can that even work with dating? Not that you want to date me. I'm just.. I want you to know these things, 'cause I dunno what this means, and I want to be honest and up-front about everything. To hopefully avoid messing everything up," she finally finishes talking and clams up, waiting for a response. If there is one.
Robbie looks at her with his eyes, staring into her own lovely lilacs, when she lifts a hand at him and starts to just ramble at him about how she's feeling and what kind of pressure she might be under. She doesn't want to mess it up. She doesn't think dating is smart because she believes she'd mess it up. Doesn't want to commit because she thinks she'll screw it up.
Geez, talk about heavy anxiety. Being the daughter of trigon does that to you, though.
Robbie though just starts to chuckle. "Well, if it helps you feel better, I don't know anything about dating either. Or dancing, for that matter. So…if this is a date, and we end up dating, know that I'm probably going to be the one to mess it up and not you." he says that to help her feel better, though if she was reading his emotions, it was genuine.
But then he smiles a bit. "But I appreciate your honesty. Something that people just arn't nowadays, really. Not like you hurt my feelings or anything."
Rachel might blush, if she weren't already employing her calming tactics. Still, it's a relief when Robbie makes it clear he understands her and doesn't appear to be expecting anything special from her, that she's aware of. Alex told her to be honest in the situations where she feels anxiety, like this, and she still thinks it was good advice. It's better to just come out with whatever is eating at you than to try to find some way to avoid it altogether.
She purses her lips and nods, "True, but I'm also saying yes to going to a dance with you. How can that hurt your feelings? I just don't want you to figure I'll know the right response or I'll have the expected reaction, or whatever. 'Cause well. Hell, Robbie, I'm twenty-two and I've never been on a first date or anything like that." She rubs her temples. It's an odd thing, seeing someone so calm-looking/sounding say and do things that indicate anxiety. "Just… Tell me about your brother. I need a break from thinking about it, for a minute. So, tell me about him, if you feel okay doing so," she says, getting up from the chair to grab some drinks. "What do you want to drink? I have beer, rose, A&W, cold-brew tea, apple juice, milk, pine-orange-banana juice, water, kiwi strawberry and peach Propel…" she rambles off some of her drink options as she walks toward the kitchen area, which is visible from the living room.
Robbie seems to chuckle a litle bit to her. "Its not hurting my feelings. and well….be a first date for both of us then" he's tempted to give her a finger-shake and a 'listen!' kind of look, but he doesn't. Instead, its amusement. When she asks him to tell him about his brother, he inhales. "Uhm…hm. Some Apple Juice would be nice, haven't had it in a while." then when she walks off towards the kitchen, Robbie begins. "My brother's been disabled with no motor control in his legs since birth. Our parents died when I was young….so, I've been the one to raise him. He thinks I'm uh…his hero. The coolest guy in the world. I don't mind being that or not, but I'm just trying to give him the best life I can. He's still small. Barely 9 years old, and god I'm going to hate it when he hits double digits. I take him out for riders in my car all the time. Buy him ice cream, play with his toys with him…all of it." the way Robbie talks about this kid, its like Gabe is the sole reason for Robbie's being. If anything happened to him….
Trigon would have some devilish competition.
But then he shakes his head. "But…thats basically all thats needed to know. He's a real comic book nerd too."
Rachel gets a large glass from a cabinet and fills it full of apple juice, the good stuff — Juicy Juice or nothin', if you ask her. She gets a bottle of kiwi strawberry Propel for herself and she returns to the sitting area, placing the glass of juice on the table in front of Robbie. She sits back in her chair and opens the bottle with her tk — these tough caps tend to rip her hands up and she finds the precision practice for her powers is good to keep her in tip-top shape.
Taking a deep drink of her water, she gulps it down like she's not had anything to drink in ages. She motions to her bong and says, "I'mma go hit this in my bedroom real quick, and I'll be right back. It's kinda rude of me to leave it sitting out here. Sorry 'bout that," she says, picking up the beautiful, expensive piece and padding to one of the actual walled off areas of the place, closing the door behind her. She's not gone for very long. Maybe two minutes. But, when she returns, her body language is calmer and she settles in her chair comfortably, picking up her water bottle again and taking another deep drink. "Well, I have to say, he sounds like a great kid. I didn't have a brother or sister growing up, so I've no idea what that kind of thing is like. What grade were you in when you dropped out to take care of him?" she asks, leaning back into her chair, resting her elbows on the back of it.