[ 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.
[ Allison is, probably understandably, awkward about the topic at hand but Rose is morbidly fascinated— like all of this is some unsolved true crime documentary. ]
Most people have that one ex they never get over— one of my sisters, the really annoying one, she's been on and off fucking her boyfriend since highschool.
[ There's a kind of levity in how she moves and talks. Rose was usually weighed down by something— family, her work, herself— but here and today she feels like her age, feels the way she tries so hard to look. ]
The doc is the one that got away. I bet that smarts— her womb didn't get to hold those genius eggs.
[Allison is observant by nature, and so she'd noticed, of course, and had tried not to make much out of it. Her mother was notoriously tight-lipped about some of her relationships — consequences of Ted Faro and his constant unpleasant presence on the outskirts of their lives — but she also wasn't the most emotive in general. Or expressive. Or easy to talk to, when you were her child and not some starstruck investor.
So she'd noticed. The way that woman's gaze had lingered, the regret in her voice. The request to "let Lis know that I'm thinking of her." and then, almost as an afterthought: "Gaia and Bethany as well, of course." But like some of her mother's more unsavory contacts (Travis Tate came to mind), Allison had opted not to think about it.
Rose doesn't have her hangups, though, and so she can't really blame her for bringing it up. She grimaces, trying not to smile at Rose's crassness and failing, as always, so the expression is almost pained. She almost says "they're all really annoying," thinks about it, and settles on:]
That doesn't narrow it down much. And can we please not talk about my mom's eggs? Come on. I know you have a heart, spare me.
[The protest is half-hearted, for all that she genuinely hates the topic. Rose seemed lighter in her recounting of it, even though the joke was at Allison's expense, and she's reluctant to end the talk as a result.]
[ The laughter snags in her throat, coming up on the tail of her comeback— it's seen but not heard, in the way her mouth quirks to the side.
She doesn't have any mercy, but she is interested in shittalking her sisters. There's some narrative parallels between Iris and the old dyke, after all. ]
There's only one of them that would do that. The others are all prudes and whores.
[ She wonders whether Allison wants to know where she lands on that spectrum, but then realizes she likely already knows that her answer is 'Both' (if the phone conversation they'd had just a day ago meant anything).
Rose walks next to Allison, just barely keep the distance between them from closing. ]
Iris, Yknow the one with the annoying boyfriend? The guy with the hair who lies—
[ Allison had only met him once and had almost decked him within 20 minutes of conversation. It had made Rose fall a bit harder. ]
I dated him in high school— before her, and then once after. Bad rebound.
You dated that guy? [Allison turns to her, genuinely surprised. She gently swings their arms back and forth as they walk, without thinking much on the gesture. Her eyebrows raise almost up into her hairline, and her tone when she speaks next is incredulous. Rose had hinted at this before, in the laying out of her surprisingly complex sororal politics. That in the span of their tumultuous, unstable years of living with one another, they had done things like this — rebounded with another one’s ex, slept with a sister’s boyfriend or girlfriend out of jealousy, or spite, or at times simply to be noticed. Allison, who had only one sister (antisocial, cerebral, self-doubting), problems completely separate from this, and where each of them had been noticed far too often for their own good, does not fully understand this. Though she can envision it, from her observations of Rose and her sisters, as separate people and as a singular unit. Always at odds with one another, never entirely at peace — simply at stalemates. And each of them vying for Rose’s attention or praise, in their own ways.
It made Allison uncomfortable to be around them for long, sensing their palatable dislike of her, feeling like an interloper on something not for her eyes. She kept her opinions on Rose’s sisters to herself.
The topic of “the guy with the hair who lies” is a safer one, however, and she relaxes into it. It’s comfortable routine to talk about him — a topic they both agreed on.] The guy who lives on your sister’s couch and thinks having a decent head of hair is a personality trait. And he isn’t dead yet? [In mock disappointment:] You didn’t kill him?
[It seems as if she is not threatened by this news, as much as she is completely flabbergasted. She can’t imagine Rose having the patience once, let alone twice.]
Tried- I keep trying. He can't keep his scams between the two of them.
[ She doesn't think about the gap in their ages very much. All things considered it wasn't that wide a divide especially with the unconventional nature of both of their lives. In some ways Allison's life experience was even more plentiful than her own. But it's strange to think that while she was giving half-hearted handjobs to her sister's now fiance of five years, Allison was being a baby genius. ]
He wasn't the worst boyfriend I've ever had either.
[ She isn't consciously taking them anywhere but naturally her feet drift toward the blooming nightlife. Street lamps and neon signs are just beginning to flicker on, their lights making the dark glass unfurl in the sky. ]
You never talk about your exes.
[ Rose pushes against her making Allison stray off the path. ]
[Allison stumbles more for the performance of it than actually being jostled, and bumps Rose’s hip on her return back to her side. For a time she’s quiet, content: soaking in the sounds of the city waking itself up for the night, watching the street lights dance in Rose’s hair. She’s a little tipsy from earlier, not sloppily drunk but uninhibited enough to feel sentimental and not so guarded.]
I don’t?
[It’s an honest question. It had only just now occurred to her that Rose or anyone might be interested in the parts of her life that was not carrying the torch of her parents’ legacy, of breaking some record or goal in academics or in her career.]
Ah… well, you’ve met Mio.
[She still stopped by on the occasions that the two of them were not swamped with work. Usually it was Gaia who knew of her arrival before Allison even had an inkling of it.] We dated as teenagers for a while, but we’ve known one another since we were kids.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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..
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
Most people have that one ex they never get over— one of my sisters, the really annoying one, she's been on and off fucking her boyfriend since highschool.
[ There's a kind of levity in how she moves and talks. Rose was usually weighed down by something— family, her work, herself— but here and today she feels like her age, feels the way she tries so hard to look. ]
The doc is the one that got away. I bet that smarts— her womb didn't get to hold those genius eggs.
no subject
So she'd noticed. The way that woman's gaze had lingered, the regret in her voice. The request to "let Lis know that I'm thinking of her." and then, almost as an afterthought: "Gaia and Bethany as well, of course." But like some of her mother's more unsavory contacts (Travis Tate came to mind), Allison had opted not to think about it.
Rose doesn't have her hangups, though, and so she can't really blame her for bringing it up. She grimaces, trying not to smile at Rose's crassness and failing, as always, so the expression is almost pained. She almost says "they're all really annoying," thinks about it, and settles on:]
That doesn't narrow it down much. And can we please not talk about my mom's eggs? Come on. I know you have a heart, spare me.
[The protest is half-hearted, for all that she genuinely hates the topic. Rose seemed lighter in her recounting of it, even though the joke was at Allison's expense, and she's reluctant to end the talk as a result.]
no subject
She doesn't have any mercy, but she is interested in shittalking her sisters. There's some narrative parallels between Iris and the old dyke, after all. ]
There's only one of them that would do that. The others are all prudes and whores.
[ She wonders whether Allison wants to know where she lands on that spectrum, but then realizes she likely already knows that her answer is 'Both' (if the phone conversation they'd had just a day ago meant anything).
Rose walks next to Allison, just barely keep the distance between them from closing. ]
Iris, Yknow the one with the annoying boyfriend? The guy with the hair who lies—
[ Allison had only met him once and had almost decked him within 20 minutes of conversation. It had made Rose fall a bit harder. ]
I dated him in high school— before her, and then once after. Bad rebound.
no subject
It made Allison uncomfortable to be around them for long, sensing their palatable dislike of her, feeling like an interloper on something not for her eyes. She kept her opinions on Rose’s sisters to herself.
The topic of “the guy with the hair who lies” is a safer one, however, and she relaxes into it. It’s comfortable routine to talk about him — a topic they both agreed on.] The guy who lives on your sister’s couch and thinks having a decent head of hair is a personality trait. And he isn’t dead yet? [In mock disappointment:] You didn’t kill him?
[It seems as if she is not threatened by this news, as much as she is completely flabbergasted. She can’t imagine Rose having the patience once, let alone twice.]
no subject
[ She doesn't think about the gap in their ages very much. All things considered it wasn't that wide a divide especially with the unconventional nature of both of their lives. In some ways Allison's life experience was even more plentiful than her own. But it's strange to think that while she was giving half-hearted handjobs to her sister's now fiance of five years, Allison was being a baby genius. ]
He wasn't the worst boyfriend I've ever had either.
[ She isn't consciously taking them anywhere but naturally her feet drift toward the blooming nightlife. Street lamps and neon signs are just beginning to flicker on, their lights making the dark glass unfurl in the sky. ]
You never talk about your exes.
[ Rose pushes against her making Allison stray off the path. ]
no subject
I don’t?
[It’s an honest question. It had only just now occurred to her that Rose or anyone might be interested in the parts of her life that was not carrying the torch of her parents’ legacy, of breaking some record or goal in academics or in her career.]
Ah… well, you’ve met Mio.
[She still stopped by on the occasions that the two of them were not swamped with work. Usually it was Gaia who knew of her arrival before Allison even had an inkling of it.] We dated as teenagers for a while, but we’ve known one another since we were kids.