[ her first instinct is to call her, but Rose relents just as soon as the thought occurs.
She feels flattered, she feels startled, she feels excited and she feels guilty. She thinks of gray eyes in a rear view mirror, an even more dour pair of grey eyes in the backseat. The pair in the mirror shift to the right, and the person they belong to say: "So I guess this means you're going to dumb the dick with the mustang."
She wonders if this is a sign that this will only go down from here.
Rose decides not to dwell; she feels too much longing for a home she hasn't known for very long.
(And also, she's still kind of in the mood from the day before. ) ]
oh yeah?? Guten tag or whatever What a funny coincidence
[ Despite this she far less confident on the other end of the phone. She feels strangely guilty, maybe unworthy. She feels frustrated that she feels that way. ]
[Despite the nervous jitters she has, her inner voice screaming at her that this had been a stupid and obsessive idea, she smiles some. She'd been half (well, more than half) expecting a rejection.]
Guten tag
[a few seconds later]
I hope this isn't strange for you. I mean, I really did think about it, impulsiveness aside, and I had to move a few appointments around of course...
[She's pacing again. She doesn't mention the argument she had with her mother about this, that she'd set projects off the rails for it. That was her problem to deal with. Making Rose feel bad for it would be unnecessary.]
And I know that you're busy, but I wanted to see you. You know, make sure you weren't just in your hotel between shows.
so you're an expert at romance now? I'll remember that I'd say you should just come here but I know how you get when you think I'm being a cave person I know a place I'll send it to you
Yeah. You know me. Romancer extraordinaire. I’ll meet you there.
[She hates the inherent touristy aura she gives off, rolling backpack and Google maps and all, but Amsterdam wasn’t really a place she visited often, and her familiarity of it kind of… makes her a tourist. Oh well.
She sticks out even beside that, very “tanned American on a backpacking journey across Europe,” and tries not to stand out too terribly while she waits for Rose.]
[She feels herself brighten instantly despite her attempts to remain collected, her own nervousness colliding with her excitement. It's a strange feeling: mingled joy and tredipidation.]
You too.
[A little self-conscious shrug follows this, and she affords her battered suitcase, covered in stickers of all the places shes been a quick glance.] And thanks. It's ah, well-traveled.
[She thinks that any couple anywhere else would have leapt into each other's arms by now, but instead Allison takes a cautious step forward, giving Rose's shoulder a gentle squeeze. It's odd, she knows, that her recklessness stops short of overt physical affection, but she always takes a while to warm up to PDA, and Rose wasn't exactly the sort to demand it either.]
[ Allison greets her like a distant father who has no idea how to connect with his adult child. Rose quirks a brow at the hand on her shoulder but says nothing more about it. ]
Really? I think the pictures were better, personally.
[ She stands on her toes to give Allison a soft kiss on each cheek, very European of her.
Rose leads without saying a word, on hand hovering over the small of her back.
The restaurant is a small hole in the wall bakery. The kind that lets its food speak for itself— dark, crumbling, a little dirty and most importantly sparsely populated.
They sit in corner away from any doors or windows and Rose tries to pretend she's not struggling to understand what one did when someone surprised them with someone nice. ]
So you just decided to show up, huh? No warning, no plan? Surprising but also somehow not.
[The second guessing comes quickly after their hellos are exchanged, and Allison keeps her posture relaxed so as not to give her anxiousness away. It's not that she regrets seeing Rose, far from it. It's that she has no idea what the next step is, or how she should be acting. It's unusual for her to not know a next step, and she tries to find her footing in this new discomfort.
She takes in their surroundings, thinking fondly that it was exactly the sort of place Rose would pick, looking up when she speaks.]
Yeah. [There's a thoughtful pause.] My best ideas are the ones I don't overthink. [Sheepishly:] I... did consider that you wouldn't take it well. You know, thin line between "grand romantic gesture" and "restraining order."
[ Rose glances absentmindedly at her menu, the option to look at something that isn't Allison a welcome reprieve as she sorts through her own thoughts. ]
Not really. You always do the last thing anyone realistically expects. So I guess all of this is business as usual.
[ Her gaze lifts from the menu and she gestures over the old woman manning the counter and kitchen both.
Only when she walks away does Rose finally look at Allison again. ]
That line you mentioned— the one between freaky and romantic.. where it lands depends on how I look at you and whatever it is we are, doesn't it?
[ She leans back some, crossing her arms. This time her gaze is unmovable, eyes boring into Allison. ]
So you were ballsy enough to assume, or hope, that we were far enough along for this to be okay. You wouldn't fly across the world for a bootycall, after all. Well, some people would but not you.
[ this is the "what are we?" Conversation Rose had hoped she would never have. Usually, it was someone else asking her and not the other way around. ]
[Allison’s smile at that is a little self-deprecating, a “you got me there,” smile, though it fades into seriousness the longer Rose speaks, the more intent and unblinking her stare becomes. She feels exposed here, having such a conversation. She’d hoped the gesture in and of itself would be enough, but she would ask this question too, were she in Rose’s place, and so gives it the respect it deserves. She meets Rose’s gaze with her own.]
No, I wouldn’t. […] It was a hope, I guess. I’m not so arrogant to assume you’d just wait around for me to show up… ah, anyway. We’ve been seeing each other for a while. My family likes you. I like you. And my aforementioned recklessness notwithstanding, I’ve never flown across the world to see anyone if it wasn’t work related. No one but you. [She leans in some.] So… this gesture, it’s intentional, and I’m serious about it. More than that, I was concerned about you. This tour is such a big deal for you. I want to share it with you.
[She can feel her ears going red, and so to lighten the mood, she adds, as an aside:] And I really want to see the Rijksmuseum.
[ Allison was rarely anything but forthright, so she isn't expecting anything less than this. Still, it is strange to have someone look you in the eye and be so open and sternly affectionate at once.
Rose breaks eye contact first, her own face warm and red as well. ]
You know.. looking at you, I never thought you were some kind of smooth talking Casanova.
[ She makes a face, as if the prospect gives her the ick. ]
I've only really ever dated one person, and I was only with him so I could get a ride to school.
[ she looks back at Allison again. ]
I'm not really the kind of girl most people would take home to their families. I'm surprised you ever did.
Casanova? [Allison is the one to make a face now.] Honestly. I'm being sincere.
[Her embarrassment at this is what makes her look away this time.]
They wanted to meet you. [She drums her fingers against the table.] And I wanted them to meet you, so it worked out. So? What's your verdict? This whole spur of the moment trip hangs in the balance of it.
[ she is busy pondering the equal parts disgust and excitement she feels at the prospect of now being someone's 💀girlfriend💀 so the question catches her off guard. ]
I don't ever sleep well. Also if this isn't a case of the pot calling the goddamn kettle black.
[ she points with her fork.
But Rose decides not to spit in the face of Allison's own attempt at vulnerability just yet.
Her voice is quieter, she speaks like none of it really matters. ]
It's easier when things are busy— the back to back shows and jet lag knock me out like that.
[ she snaps with her free hand, the other shoveling waffle into her mouth still. ]
Never really known what to do with free time except sit around and stare at the wall. There wasn't a lot of it to go around when I was a kid.
[ they were similar in that aspect, despite all odds. Neither of them liked to have much time alone with their thoughts. ]
[She also looks like she hasn't been sleeping well, but that is par the course for her too.
For a time, she listens, chewing thoughtfully on her own waffle, and considers this. She's aware of this aspect of Rose, had witnessed it firsthand, and moreover, she'd feel a little hypocritical scolding her about not having fun, when she had a pathological aversion to doing anything that wasn't work.
Not until she'd met Rose, anyway.
She leans forward again, her tone earnest.]
Well, what have you always wanted to do, if you could do what you wanted? Not work, not obligation.
[She waits in patient silence as Rose struggles to express a positive emotion, and her own gaze warms, her expression softening. The sentiment, both said and inferred, is touching.
A moment later, and she reaches to put her hand over Rose's own.]
That's generous of you. I promise to be as entertaining as I can.
[ The way her head shifts— so slowly, so dramatic— to look down at the hand on top of hers, you would think something terrifying had landed on her fingers.
But she's been working on this whole self-improvement, healing your inner self mumbo jumbo, so despite the reflex to shove it off and away she doesn't. ]
Good.
[ She says, hiding the fact that she's been holding her breath. ]
Now eat your stupid waffle.
[ the day passes in a blur.
They are good about staying unrecognizable, sunglasses and a hat seem to do the trick just fine. They go to a museum, get stroopwafels, and Rose smokes a joint overlooking a river in the middle of town and regales Allison with retelling of her favorite Keats poems.
By the time it is dark and they are headed back to her hotel she is too tired and breathless to have qualms with Allison holding her hand. She is slow in her gait, passes it off on being cross faded.
Truthfully, she doesn't want the day to end. Tomorrow would be another day on tour, and then the day after that she would be on the road again. ]
The lady at the museum was the good doctor's ex right?
[ She plays with Allison's fingers as they walk. Rose has a devilish look in her eye, the kind she gets when she's going to say something that makes the people around her miserable. ]
Your mom must have some gorilla grip down there if that lady's still pining over her.
[Allison's a little drunk, very relaxed and unworried for once. She's enjoying the city, the day, Rose's company. So much so that it nearly takes the sting out of it being over soon. They'll have to depart again, and real life will rush in and take her mind off of this day. But the memory of it will keep her in good spirits.
They are walking hand in hand, a rarity by all accounts. Neither of them were particularly open with affection in public, but the time apart had melted away some of these barriers, and it's nice. To just be two normal people, having a normal day together.]
Miss van der Meer? Yeah, it seems that way. I had no idea. My mom never mentioned her.
[For a second, this oddity makes her think she's misheard Rose at first.] What?
[The realization is quick to rush in after that. She makes a face, and a disgusted noise escapes her.] Ugh, come on. I don't want to hear or think about that.
[ Rose shakes her head sagely, face dour— she looks like she is confronting a hard truth.
Her face is still flushed from the alcohol and her hand is still wrapped around Allison's fingers. ]
Nope, we have to talk about it. I'm going to shit myself in the middle of the road if we don't talk about it.
[ Some pedestrians cast them looks, but nothing too alarming. If she was less drunk she might notice the distant look of recognition the two of them receive. ]
She's still pissed your mom dumped her I bet. I think she's just as pissed you're wasting your time with some wannabe pop star.
[She glances over at Rose in a way that can only be described as "long-suffering." This is a standard expression when dealing with Rose, but Allison hasn't let go of her hand, which is a sign of resignation.]
You really think that? It's been years. [A delay, in which she clings to Rose's hand a little tighter.] And it isn't like her approval of who I date matters. I barely know her.
[A little uneasily:] She seemed nice. Intense, I suppose, but most of mom's colleagues are like that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She feels flattered, she feels startled, she feels excited and she feels guilty. She thinks of gray eyes in a rear view mirror, an even more dour pair of grey eyes in the backseat. The pair in the mirror shift to the right, and the person they belong to say: "So I guess this means you're going to dumb the dick with the mustang."
She wonders if this is a sign that this will only go down from here.
Rose decides not to dwell; she feels too much longing for a home she hasn't known for very long.
(And also, she's still kind of in the mood from the day before. ) ]
oh yeah??
Guten tag or whatever
What a funny coincidence
[ Despite this she far less confident on the other end of the phone. She feels strangely guilty, maybe unworthy. She feels frustrated that she feels that way. ]
no subject
Guten tag
[a few seconds later]
I hope this isn't strange for you. I mean, I really did think about it, impulsiveness aside, and I had to move a few appointments around of course...
[She's pacing again. She doesn't mention the argument she had with her mother about this, that she'd set projects off the rails for it. That was her problem to deal with. Making Rose feel bad for it would be unnecessary.]
And I know that you're busy, but I wanted to see you. You know, make sure you weren't just in your hotel between shows.
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I haven't just been in my hotel room thanks
I went to Danish McDonalds yesterday after I hung up with you
[ after a moment ]
you're not bothering me
The whole thing is so
Stupid and romantic
I could barf
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[Despite the joke, her smile warms, becomes less nervous. Her pacing slows.]
Stupid and romantic are synonymous, as far as I know.
Let's go to breakfast together.
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I'll remember that
I'd say you should just come here but I know how you get when you think I'm being a cave person
I know a place I'll send it to you
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Romancer extraordinaire.
I’ll meet you there.
[She hates the inherent touristy aura she gives off, rolling backpack and Google maps and all, but Amsterdam wasn’t really a place she visited often, and her familiarity of it kind of… makes her a tourist. Oh well.
She sticks out even beside that, very “tanned American on a backpacking journey across Europe,” and tries not to stand out too terribly while she waits for Rose.]
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In the end she was grateful they'd chosen to meet in public. She is not sure how she should be, which feels stupid all things considered. ]
aren't you a sight for sore eyes.
[ The nervous energy is forced down but not forgotten. ]
Nice suitcase.
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You too.
[A little self-conscious shrug follows this, and she affords her battered suitcase, covered in stickers of all the places shes been a quick glance.] And thanks. It's ah, well-traveled.
[She thinks that any couple anywhere else would have leapt into each other's arms by now, but instead Allison takes a cautious step forward, giving Rose's shoulder a gentle squeeze. It's odd, she knows, that her recklessness stops short of overt physical affection, but she always takes a while to warm up to PDA, and Rose wasn't exactly the sort to demand it either.]
It's good to see you in person.
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Really? I think the pictures were better, personally.
[ She stands on her toes to give Allison a soft kiss on each cheek, very European of her.
Rose leads without saying a word, on hand hovering over the small of her back.
The restaurant is a small hole in the wall bakery. The kind that lets its food speak for itself— dark, crumbling, a little dirty and most importantly sparsely populated.
They sit in corner away from any doors or windows and Rose tries to pretend she's not struggling to understand what one did when someone surprised them with someone nice. ]
So you just decided to show up, huh? No warning, no plan? Surprising but also somehow not.
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She takes in their surroundings, thinking fondly that it was exactly the sort of place Rose would pick, looking up when she speaks.]
Yeah. [There's a thoughtful pause.] My best ideas are the ones I don't overthink. [Sheepishly:] I... did consider that you wouldn't take it well. You know, thin line between "grand romantic gesture" and "restraining order."
[A second later:] You're not surprised?
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Not really. You always do the last thing anyone realistically expects. So I guess all of this is business as usual.
[ Her gaze lifts from the menu and she gestures over the old woman manning the counter and kitchen both.
Only when she walks away does Rose finally look at Allison again. ]
That line you mentioned— the one between freaky and romantic.. where it lands depends on how I look at you and whatever it is we are, doesn't it?
[ She leans back some, crossing her arms. This time her gaze is unmovable, eyes boring into Allison. ]
So you were ballsy enough to assume, or hope, that we were far enough along for this to be okay. You wouldn't fly across the world for a bootycall, after all. Well, some people would but not you.
[ this is the "what are we?" Conversation Rose had hoped she would never have. Usually, it was someone else asking her and not the other way around. ]
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No, I wouldn’t. […] It was a hope, I guess. I’m not so arrogant to assume you’d just wait around for me to show up… ah, anyway. We’ve been seeing each other for a while. My family likes you. I like you. And my aforementioned recklessness notwithstanding, I’ve never flown across the world to see anyone if it wasn’t work related. No one but you. [She leans in some.] So… this gesture, it’s intentional, and I’m serious about it. More than that, I was concerned about you. This tour is such a big deal for you. I want to share it with you.
[She can feel her ears going red, and so to lighten the mood, she adds, as an aside:] And I really want to see the Rijksmuseum.
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Rose breaks eye contact first, her own face warm and red as well. ]
You know.. looking at you, I never thought you were some kind of smooth talking Casanova.
[ She makes a face, as if the prospect gives her the ick. ]
I've only really ever dated one person, and I was only with him so I could get a ride to school.
[ she looks back at Allison again. ]
I'm not really the kind of girl most people would take home to their families. I'm surprised you ever did.
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[Her embarrassment at this is what makes her look away this time.]
They wanted to meet you. [She drums her fingers against the table.] And I wanted them to meet you, so it worked out. So? What's your verdict? This whole spur of the moment trip hangs in the balance of it.
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I'm not going to send you home after all of that.. stupid. The fact that you even have to ask—
[ Their food comes, and Rose turns her embarrassed frown to her waffles.
She tears into them with a bit more vigor than necessary. ]
Just don't ever call me baby or your girlfriend and we'll be fine.
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You've got a deal. We're in agreement about that.
[Her own foray into breakfast is much more sedate. For a moment she allows the silence to sit there, not quite comfortable, but bearable.
After a moment, she speaks up again.]
You look like you haven't been sleeping well. Everything alright?
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I don't ever sleep well. Also if this isn't a case of the pot calling the goddamn kettle black.
[ she points with her fork.
But Rose decides not to spit in the face of Allison's own attempt at vulnerability just yet.
Her voice is quieter, she speaks like none of it really matters. ]
It's easier when things are busy— the back to back shows and jet lag knock me out like that.
[ she snaps with her free hand, the other shoveling waffle into her mouth still. ]
Never really known what to do with free time except sit around and stare at the wall. There wasn't a lot of it to go around when I was a kid.
[ they were similar in that aspect, despite all odds. Neither of them liked to have much time alone with their thoughts. ]
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[She also looks like she hasn't been sleeping well, but that is par the course for her too.
For a time, she listens, chewing thoughtfully on her own waffle, and considers this. She's aware of this aspect of Rose, had witnessed it firsthand, and moreover, she'd feel a little hypocritical scolding her about not having fun, when she had a pathological aversion to doing anything that wasn't work.
Not until she'd met Rose, anyway.
She leans forward again, her tone earnest.]
Well, what have you always wanted to do, if you could do what you wanted? Not work, not obligation.
1/2
Beats me. Not to sound like little orphan Annie but I'm pretty sure I was like 8 years old, last I kept any list like that.
[ She has decimated her waffles and therefore has nothing else to keep herself busy. There is a moment of silence and then she looks away again. ]
Look just, don't worry too much about shit like that okay? If I don't want to do something I'll tell you but for now..
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Eye for an eye, embarrassing vulnerability for embarrassing vulnerability. ]
You're here, so whatever you want to do is fine. I can probably make whatever egghead shit you wanna' do kind of entertaining.
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A moment later, and she reaches to put her hand over Rose's own.]
That's generous of you. I promise to be as entertaining as I can.
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But she's been working on this whole self-improvement, healing your inner self mumbo jumbo, so despite the reflex to shove it off and away she doesn't. ]
Good.
[ She says, hiding the fact that she's been holding her breath. ]
Now eat your stupid waffle.
[ the day passes in a blur.
They are good about staying unrecognizable, sunglasses and a hat seem to do the trick just fine. They go to a museum, get stroopwafels, and Rose smokes a joint overlooking a river in the middle of town and regales Allison with retelling of her favorite Keats poems.
By the time it is dark and they are headed back to her hotel she is too tired and breathless to have qualms with Allison holding her hand. She is slow in her gait, passes it off on being cross faded.
Truthfully, she doesn't want the day to end. Tomorrow would be another day on tour, and then the day after that she would be on the road again. ]
The lady at the museum was the good doctor's ex right?
[ She plays with Allison's fingers as they walk. Rose has a devilish look in her eye, the kind she gets when she's going to say something that makes the people around her miserable. ]
Your mom must have some gorilla grip down there if that lady's still pining over her.
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They are walking hand in hand, a rarity by all accounts. Neither of them were particularly open with affection in public, but the time apart had melted away some of these barriers, and it's nice. To just be two normal people, having a normal day together.]
Miss van der Meer? Yeah, it seems that way. I had no idea. My mom never mentioned her.
[For a second, this oddity makes her think she's misheard Rose at first.] What?
[The realization is quick to rush in after that. She makes a face, and a disgusted noise escapes her.] Ugh, come on. I don't want to hear or think about that.
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Her face is still flushed from the alcohol and her hand is still wrapped around Allison's fingers. ]
Nope, we have to talk about it. I'm going to shit myself in the middle of the road if we don't talk about it.
[ Some pedestrians cast them looks, but nothing too alarming. If she was less drunk she might notice the distant look of recognition the two of them receive. ]
She's still pissed your mom dumped her I bet. I think she's just as pissed you're wasting your time with some wannabe pop star.
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You really think that? It's been years. [A delay, in which she clings to Rose's hand a little tighter.] And it isn't like her approval of who I date matters. I barely know her.
[A little uneasily:] She seemed nice. Intense, I suppose, but most of mom's colleagues are like that.
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