psychoshenanigans | Accord // Canon

Even though she doesn't strictly need to, she sidles up close to her date for warmth, making a show of giving a cute little shiver like she's freezing. Cuddled up against his side, she makes it clear--especially to those who maybe aren't getting along so well--that not only do they look perfect, they're happy too. Isn't that wonderful?

And to the woman standing closest to her in line--the who has just been deadeyed by her husband, the one that she knows is jealous of the inexplicably-beautiful jewels dripping from her throat--she gives a look. It's an innocent smile, a shared glance that is meant to mean "isn't this fun, being out with our men?" It causes the woman to sink deeper into her pang of bitterness, forces her to try covering it with a falsely-returned smile, and Kett pretends not to drink up everything behind it.

She returns her attention to her partner once she's had her fun, peeking up at him and pretending to be saying something far less arrogant than she is.

"...We either have fantastic timing, or they've dressed the whole place up just for us."

He thinks it's hilarious, but turns all his bubbling, inner delight at his partner. He scoots her a little closer, rubs her shoulder a little like you do for someone you like when they get cold--even gives the line a look as if deciding whether or not to be generous and offer her his coat or something. He's building up a role himself; he's the guy who's going to make the evening to go perfect for his special someone. He laughs, he smiles, he leans down to quickly peck her cheek.

"It's not too late to say they didn't," he says, despite that being a pointless, vague, and logically impossible answer. It's just what you do. "--Ah.

The line moves along quickly once the doors are open, couples and small business groups being led through procession. The ship is an impressive work of craftsmanship, fitting right in with the highest forms of city architecture, but the inside is where the ship's real attraction lies. Lush is the only word for it; muted colors splashed with warm lights, delicate chandeliers dripping away from and intricate ceiling, and plush seating that might even compete with Tek's collection. Someone put a great deal of art and effort into this place. No wonder it costs an arm and a leg to get in.

He actual has very little about this evening planned out, aside from the location and how much of a bitch he's already decided to be. But he's paying attention anyway. He's watching the hosts' faces, noting the way they give pointed, smiling attention to both people before handing the night to the woman. It's that kind of thing that pays off around here, since when they step up to the young man ready to lead them to their table, he gets to watch as he gives a pointed smile to Kett and then gets stuck looking at Robin. His delight swells when the boy stutters just a little and tears his eyes away, back to Kett, and he doesn't waste time grabbing onto the situation.

"Table for two, thank you."

Their host is more than happy to gather up his menus and try to pretend that didn't happen, leading them down the stairs and into the main chamber. Robin squeezes Kett's shoulder a little (because it wouldn't be socially acceptable to start cracking up) before he detaches entirely and sweeps up to the kid, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. He leans in for a conspiratorial talk, speaking quietly enough that no one human is likely to overhear.

"Actually, I was wondering--could I get one of those tables?" He points unobtrusively at the window spots, raised a slight step higher than the others to accommodate for the shape of the boat. "This is an anniversary present for my girlfriend, and she loves the view from here--" He presses his fingers down on the invisible nothing in front of them, putting the idea on the table with an almost apologetic smile. "--I mean, if it's not too much trouble, or anything."

The smile is what does it. The kid's already nodding and agreeing to it before Robin can finish up his last precious syllables. Their host scurries to a couple just arriving at the window, apologizes like he means it, and asks if they'd be willing to move. They agree to it without a fuss, but probably only to be polite. One of them looks over to see who's taking their spot, quickly plastering on a hardened smile when she figures it out.

And so, they're led to their new table and given a very long and very complimentary wine menu. The view is beautiful, and the way the lights from outside break into shards and glimmers and twists in the edges of the windowpanes are nothing short of beautiful... But Robin's real reasons for sitting there are obvious. They're on a raised platform. They're in the best seats. They're in the middle of everything. Everyone can see them here, and everyone is going to want to look.

She waits until after the curious get their first round of glances in, them sneaking eyes over at the flashy couple by the windows while they're pulling out chairs and getting settled. Then, once everyone is more or less focused on their more immediate surroundings again, she offers her partner a heartfelt but silently-mimed round of applause. Well done.

And then she'll busy herself with the wine menu. It keeps up appearances, and she might as well with how wide their selection will probably be. She actually likes the taste of some of the sweeter ones, and alcohol is quick-burning energy, so why not?

Most of her attention is elsewhere, though. She gives the cursory gaze out the window--because it is beautiful, beyond simply serving as one of the expected motions she follows. But then her focus glides out over the rest of the room. She's surrounded by more of her favorite things. The whole thing is a show, displayed in a gorgeous theater--though the ones on stage are there more to enjoy the audience than the other way around.

She leans in a little, gives him the dreamy expression of an anniversary-bound girl, laced with a smile that's just a little too sharp to be conventional.

"...I love the view."

He'll take the mimed applause with a quiet nod himself. He appreciates being appreciated for it, though the journey itself was rewarding enough that he won't go pandering for more. He glances over the wines himself, but his interest is superficial--he knows what he wants, and the people over Kett's shoulder are much more interesting.

So he keeps a pleasant expression, always the observer, not focusing back on Kett until she leans (a signal for his attention). And then she's his little world again, with his fingers laced together and the 'I'm having way too much fun' look barely contained.

"What's the phrase? 'Only the best for you, darling'?"

"Oh, aren't you sweet."

It really is a challenge not to laugh. And she keeps her gaze only on him--if she glances and spots one more disbelieving pair of eyes, or catches that host peeking in Robin's direction again, she's going to crack up. So, she daintily props her chin and stares deep into Robin's eyes, just like a devoted girl should. She can only hope that no one notices the way that her sweet smile is trying hard not to pull into a malicious little smirk.

"See, aren't you glad I keep track of these things? Isn't it nice to have something to celebrate?" --at the expense of everyone in contact with them, but still.

He laughs, breaking her gaze to look up again.

"I still can't believe you did..." And that's not just filler talk, that's an actual opinion. "You've been waiting for that one for weeks, haven't you?"

Around then, a server (male, but obviously more hetero-oriented) waltzes up to the table, introduces himself, gives them menus and asks them if they'd like anything to drink. Both he and Robin, incidentally, look at Kett first. Robin, because it's polite. The server, well... It's up for debate.

"Weeks? Don't be silly. Give me a little more credit than that."

By which she means that it's been far closer to months. Her abilities as a long-term schemer should not be underestimated.

And then the server appears, and she automatically gives him a light and friendly smile. She doesn't want to seem like she's trying, after all. She needs to make the way she shyly shrugs up her shoulders seem natural--it just happens to showcase her collar of jewels and everything they're resting on perfectly.

"Oh, goodness. I've already forgotten the name of it."

So she grabs the wine list and leans to show him.

"I thought I'd try something new... and I don't know how to pronounce it. This one here... do you recommend it?"

And then it's Robin's turn to look politely out the window and pretend he isn't paying attention; if he focuses in on Kett's little play any longer, he'll start cracking up right in front of the waiter who's trying very hard not to stare right at her well-adorned assets.

The poor sod. Never stood a chance.

But he manages a coherent thought after all, saying that "Yes, it's a good wine if you intend on something to compliment the meal." He hurriedly names off a couple of others with slightly different tastes as well, trying to remember his facts despite the distractions.

She appreciates the room to work. She's listening to every word, glancing between the list and her ever-helpful waiter, nodding along, pretending not to notice his attention being anywhere but right where it should.

At the end of his explanation, she nods with well-affected gratitude.

"Ooh, I'll keep that in mind. And I'll go with that first one, thanks. It sounds lovely."

And then she looks to Robin. His turn... and she wants to check on how good of a job he's doing at keeping a straight face.

"Hm?"

He turns politely, returns to attention, and keeps his request very simple. 'I want this, that's it.' The waiter is happy to take the chance to scamper off, and doesn't ask any other questions once he's gathered up the menus.

As he wanders off, Robin's perfectly composed expression gives way to a sly smirk and he really can't help. He has to look back out of the window again. Give him a moment.

"I haven't had to do this in a long time," he says, half-covering his mouth to get his smile under control. "You're fun."

Luckily, her smirking is easier to hide. She fidgets with her hair, plays it off as something else. Girls are just smiley; it's an easier facade to manage.

"You're not so bad yourself. ...It's not easy to find someone to play with like this."

Back home, it required someone who was both old enough to get the joke, and petty enough to know how to have fun playing along.

She props her chin again, pretending to be gazing out over the room at the exquisite decor.

"...The poor dears."

He, unfortunately, is very much in the male position. There's a standard to be met, here. He's got to be cool and composed, brushing against aloof... But without looking like a douchebag. It's a very delicate process.

But soon he's got something grappled down, and returns to glancing over his new menu. Food sounds good. Food makes everything better.

"They really don't know what hit them. Speaking of--" and a subtle glance towards her cleavage says all he needs, "--Those still look great, by the way. Is that... the necklace you got while we were out?"

She probably should be looking over the menu as well, instead of glancing down at her necklace like she'd forgotten that she'd been wearing it.

It really has become her favorite piece among her accessory collection. Altered and enchanted, she'd put a lot of time into custom-tailoring the pretty thing. It's all fixed up for just such an occasion. The outfit she'd picked out had even been chosen to offer the most flattering neckline for it.

"Oh... you know what, it is."

Fancy that.

"Ah, I thought it looked familiar..."

He figures he can spare more of a glance, now that he's pointed it out. No one's going to call him on it, or anything. But after a moment of actual thinking, the expression on his face slips and he looks a little confused.

"...I thought... Didn't it have a face on it, though?"

"A face?"

Oh, but hey, she's finally looking at the menu. The idea that her necklace once had a face and now doesn't--which might imply that she was bothered that Robin had picked on it--is obviously absurd, and deciding on what she wants to eat is much more important.

"...I wonder what it is that this place does the best. Do you know what you're getting?"

"...No," he starts to follow up, even as that thread of conversation gets buried under the menu, "...I'm pretty sure there was--"

But he stops when someone rings a bell somewhere beyond their large, expensive room and the boat begins to drift away from the dock. The air is filled with the quiet whirring of an engine, which gets even quieter as soon as they're in the river proper. Things drift through the windows, lights and reflections.

Whatever he'd been saying wasn't so important. It is a pretty view. He's sufficiently distracted, pulling up the menu again.

"Food, right... I'm not sure what they do here, but I bet our waiter would be happy to tell you. Meanwhile, I'll probably just start with pasta or something."

Because you can't go wrong with pasta.

She gets distracted too. Shutting up, leaning toward the window and dropping some of the facade, she can't help but take a moment to appreciate where they are right then. It has been a long time since she's been on a boat, and certainly never one driven by an engine. The tram has been the closest thing at this point, so she's a little impressed.

...Robin pulls her back, however, and she meets him with a subtle eyeroll.

"Pasta. How boring. I want meat."

And here she pouts over the menu, because she can get away with it in this face. It wouldn't be ladylike for her to order a whole roast something, would it?

"You always want meat."

Robin has never completely understood Tek's carnivorous preferences. He doesn't judge him for it or anything, but he just doesn't get how someone could turn down a bunch of filling carbohydrates so easily.

"...Oh, I bet they have great steaks, though. Get that. I'll match whatever you get if you want more."

That's just good strategy. A cute girl eating three steaks and a side of potatoes would be weird. A cute girl and her boyfriend eating that much is just two really enthusiastic eaters who were lucky to have met each other.

Lucky indeed. The times that actually require keeping up a facade don't usually allow room for nice compromises like this.

The smile that goes along with her happy shrug is a real one--a little carnivorous and eager, but she still means it.

"I like that idea. ...Ooh, then I'll be able to get desert too."

If they can still afford it by that point, of course.

Robin continues trying his very best not to think about prices. He's not even looking at the prices, if he can help it. He refuses to let rationality and common sense ruin his good time.

He hums in agreement. There's a lot on the dessert menu that he'd like. But before he can form any solid opinion, their waiter comes back with their wine, filling up their glasses and leaving the rest of the bottle at the table for their convenience.

He looks much happier this time, much more prepared for the gorgeous couple he's serving. And, of course, he turns to Kett first when asking if they're ready to order.

She orders the filet--rare of course--and shyly requests that the accompanying vegetables be cooked just a slightly different way than they're listed on the menu.

She knows that the chef designed the meal a certain way, but it would just be such a huge favor if they could actually manage it. Just because she can. Just because she wants to make him go that one little unnecessary step for her.

Robin knows. Odds are that she won't end up touching the vegetables at all.

He knows, all right. It's amusing, despite being entirely unnecessary. Some poor chef will have his work cut out for him, and probably bemoan the changes to his perfectly crafted creation. All so that Kett can have something she doesn't even need.

He, on the other hand, keeps it simple. He asks what's in a couple things (since Italian doesn't exist where he's from), but eventually settles in the lobster... And a side of pasta anyway, perhaps out of stubbornness or spite.

The waiter quickly flashes his best smile (at Kett, Robin gets nothing), and runs off to deliver the order. Robin takes a sip of his expensive wine before rolling right into what he was talking about before.

"Seriously though, it looks different... Did you shine it up, or something?"

"Hmm?" It takes her a moment to go back and find the previously-dropped tail of conversation.

And when she picks it up again, she folds her arms under her chest and leans forward on the table a little--it's so the light overhead can catch the jewels better, really.

"My, Robin. I didn't know you paid such close attention to jewelry."

"I pay attention to a lot of things," he continues, sinking back into a fitting smirk at the display (of her jewelry, of course). "I suppose I'm just curious. I'm happy to move onto other conversation, if you've any to provide."

He takes a rather generous sip of wine, internally arguing that it'd be a shame to let it go to waste. He's wants to make it worth the money. The reality isn't hard to guess though--despite what he might tell himself, there isn't a moment of his waking hours that couldn't be improved with something to numb the edges.

She follows suit to keep up appearances, though she does have to admit that her choice of wine was a good one. She'll have to remember this one for next time.

"Well, it is my favorite one. I have to keep it nice."

He's free to take that as keeping it shined up, or as altering and enchanting it. Either one.

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birdsbirdsbirds - 2013-03-02 08:25 (UTC) - Expand

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heresyandlace - 2013-03-02 08:47 (UTC) - Expand

Accord // Canon

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robin you're such a skank

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