[Fiction] Dinner for Two

[z-Clark]

Route 44 winds lazily past Canton, Connecticut, heading east toward Avon. At the top of a lazy hill, a fine restaurant called LaTrattoria sprawls on the apex. It is known in the area for providing quality Italian dining, but it's never been popular outside the area. It's also never had exotic guests before today.

A warp field opens in the lawn next to the driveway. A young girl steps from the shimmering circle of altered reality, glancing around her. She is cute, with the promise of beauty later in life. Her red hair falls past her shoulders with a slight wave; her youthful face is lightly freckled. Green eyes should have twinkled with warmth, but the restrained demeanour of their owner subdues most of the sparkle. Her white blouse is immaculate and the knee-length skirt appears to be beige silk. Sandals with low heels complete the outfit.

Clark readjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder, feeling the computer's slight weight swing against her hip. The computer was her constant companion; she never went anywhere without it.

The patrons waiting outside for a table stare at her as she mounted the front steps to the door. She stares back at them, morbidly fascinated by the obvious ill health, dull natures and lack of beauty. Even the ugly ones aren't interestingly ugly - they're all dull and simple, like cows. She's tempted to moo at them, so see if they understand her, but she restrains herself.

Inside, she finds the greeter, trying not to stare at the woman's heavy use of make-up to vainly hide her simple ugliness. "I have a reservation under the name Clark," Clark smiles, forcing a pleasant expression on her face.

The baseline cow gives her a grotesque smile and looks at her list. “Yes, we have a table for two,” she says in a grating voice. Her smile deepens, twisting her dull face into a dreary expression. “Are you waiting for the rest of your party?”

Clark hesitates for just a second, her mind struggling for a moment with the appropriate response. “I will be seated,” she says, the slight hesitation between the question and the answer unnoticeable to the baselines in the room.

The greeter guides her to her seat and leaves her with a menu. Clark sets the computer on one of the other three chairs and begins to read the menu. She has time, so she should decide what to eat now, before her guest arrives. She considers for a second what he will look like, then decides that it’s illogical to try to determine that based on the rough description she has. It is far more logical to concentrate on her menu and simply wait for him to arrive.

[Sam Grey]

What the fuck is it with me and teenagers? The boy blue sure needed some help, and he's picking up the skills like a pro, but I approached him. This kid, this girl, approached me. And she's a real mysterious shit too. People in dark places can't find out a whole lot about her and that ain't a good thing. That's reason enough to find out what's up with her... poor kid too, I don't have what she really wants. Nah, I should be nice: I don't have what she thinks she wants. Fuck, give her an oil can and a calculus book and she'd be happy. Pinkie.. yeah, she makes that cerebral thing work but that's because we know there's something else under there. Bah, I'll find out soon enough if that's true. Probably some kind of goddamn trap anyways.

Damn, this girl really picks the spots. The loose road dust that's been tracked up onto the path crunches under my shoes as I make my way from the parking lot and up the stairs to the entrance of the restaurant. My dark suit and hat still blend right into the darkening sky, leaving the dull red glow of my Lucky as the only bit of color to my silhouette. I'll just chalk up the expense of this meal to petty cash and make sure to cut back on some costs... Christ, kid, you've got good taste.

Hmm, these people are yappin' about something. I slide pass the "beautiful people" waiting outside for a seat, leaving only a trail of smoke behind, and I catch a few of their murmurs. Of course they're not worried about some schmuck like me, they're interested in some girl that popped into existence right on the lawn. Greeeat, she's not afraid to just pop into places. Shit, am I the only person left in this world that respects subtlety?

I gotta say, though, this could be worse. This little hub-bub of hers is giving me the perfect opportunity. See, people don't care about you if you're unremarkable and don't draw attention, especially if they're got something else exciting around. I stride through the lobby, stepping between groups as the greeter jaws with some busboy about the weirdo girl that just came in.

Speak of the devil, there she is. I scan the dining room while my Lucky crinkles from my drag, filtering the mood lighting around me with a subtle haze. This room is full of people enjoying a meal, looking at least somewhat comfortable, except for that redhead teenager with a portable computer opened up on a chair. Oh yea, she's definitely a kid, despite those big brain words and grammar.

Alright, no time like the present to get some dinner and try to convince some kid to learn how to live life instead of analyzing it. Oh who the fuck I'm kidding, this kid sounds like she's already deep into that mentality. Shit, she's even got that uncomfortable look of being around all these people... hmmm, yeah, something is up with her and someone needs to find out. I finish the rest of my trek to her table, dodging past the servers and keeping my simple profile. Taking off my hat and setting it down on the table, I slip into the chair across from the kid and flash a smile as I take another drag from my Lucky before pulling it away, "Evenin', kid."

[z-Clark]

The menu quickly proves boring. It is poorly designed and the descriptions of the food should have been much better written. Nothing sounds that appetizing, but Clark selects a dish anyway. She does need regular food intake to maintain maximum effeciency.

Clark resolves to sit quietly until Mr. Grey arrives, but boredom sets in almost immediately. She counts baselines in the room, sorts them mentally by age, gender, height and weight and then has nothing to do. She quickly opens her computer and checks her experiments. She's so glad that she had set them up so that her server uploads their current status to the Op-Net--

"Evenin', kid." A man drops comfortably into the seat across the table from her, and Clark looks up with a haughty expression on her face. The expression disappears quickly when she realizes that this is another Nova, and must be her guest.

"Mr. Grey," she says with a pleasant smile. "Thank you for coming. I am glad that you could join me." She takes the moment where he settles at the table to study him; dark hair frames a strong, square face. He's older than she expected, but that doesn't bother her. If anything bothers her, it's his size. His build could best be described as sturdy and Clark feels her first hesitation. She feels so tiny next to him - even Uncle Sledge isn't as solidly built. Sam's pale blue eyes are as heavy as three times Earth gravity, but Mother has the same effect, so the piercing quality of his eyes is familiar.

The baseline waiter has been watching the table; seeing the other person arrive, he steps forward and rolls through his speal, announcing the day's dishes. Clark sits though it, obviously bored by the entire process. When he's done, Clark lets Sam order first before she requests the rigatoni bolaganse.

Then the waiter is gone and Clark realizes that she's not sure where to go at this point. If he had said yes, then she could have just started to discuss their plans. Now, she's not sure what he wants to say to her. Not knowing something is both infuriating and fascinating - she can't remember the last time she didn't know the answer to a problem.

Clark falls back on her mother's advice: When in doubt, smile and let him talk. So Clark's expression shifts into a pleasant smile as she waits for Sam to begin the discussion.

[Sam Grey]

I'd better get rid of this cancerstick, places like this don't have smoking sections anymore. The kid doesn't seem to be bothered but there's no need to be rude. Shit, no ashtrays. I give my thumb and finger a quick lick, squeeze out the cherry on my Lucky, and tuck the butt into my coat. Ow, that fucking hurts but I'm not in the mood to fuck up the table cloth or a plate.

Now, let's get a good look at this kid. Yeah, she's gonna be a looker one day. Loose a little baby fat here, fill out a little bit there, and she'd turn a lot of heads. Trick is, this little girl has got an expression on her face that belongs on someone twice her age. Or on someone who disapproves of all of the shit happening nearby. Yea, people that look around like that are either smarter than everyone else and know it, think they're better than everyone else, or really don't give a shit about everyone sitting around. Not that acting like that is a bad thing, some of us assholes just know how to hide it a lot better.

The waiter, Johnny On The Spot, starts into his rehearsed specials speech before I can even say boo to the kid. Real anxious staff, isn't it? Oh yeah, she doesn't like listening to this tripe and looking more and more the super intelligent type by the second. I know, dull surprise, right? At least the company I keep is smart. Right, I need to order some food. "The broiled sea scallops," I say simply, not even bothering to look at the man while keeping an eye on the girl, "And a glass of scotch while you're at it. Single malt." I give her a bit of an appreciative smile when he orders at the same clip. Hey, I like it when someone else is sharing the prick attitude.

Ah ha, now her age is starting to show. I return the same pleasant smile to her over my glass as I take a sip of water. Heh, she's uncomfortable and waiting for me to move first. Her message made it clear social interaction wasn't her bag. Of course, it's not every day a fifteen year old girl goes out to dinner with a man four times her age so she's got some kind of moxie. "So, kid," I say while finally settling into my chair, "Whatcha like to do for fun?" Cliched, but I'd like to see her comfortable first. Nothing worse than someone fidgeting all through dinner.

[z-Clark]

Clark blinks as Sam broaches the subject of fun. This would be small talk then. It was something that Clark had never wasted time to learn. When you do not know what to do, improvise, she tells herself.

"I enjoy running my various experiments," Clark answers, keeping her voice light and even. "I find chess to be mentally stimulating, particularly against multiple opponants." But even as she talks, she wonders why he wants to know all this about her. Should they not get to business?

This is his favor to you, she reminds herself as she takes a sip of water. Whatever he needs or wants will be given, in so far as she can accomidate him. So she made small talk.

"I ride horses, occasionally," she begins to launch into what is obviously a mental list, "practice judo three times a week, learn archery three days a week and practice boxing when my brother is home. I also have various other classes to make me a well-rounded person: demolitions, intrusion, forensic investigation and interrogation, among other things."

She stops at the look on Sam's face; did she say something wrong? "Of course," she adds, keeping her voice smooth despite the awkwardness that she is suddenly feeling, "those are not my primary foci. My research takes presidence." She runs out of things to say; the first tinge of unease seeps into her voice as she struggles to wash that strange look off Sam's face. "What do you like to do for fun?"

[Sam Grey]

Alright, I'll admit, I've learned a number interesting things in my life. I got shit in my head I'll never use, shit I use all the time, and shit that'll make bystanders turn white. But this ain't exactly the kind of shit a fifteen year old girl learns. Not unless she's attending some kind of school from back in the day... oh, right, everyone forgot about those little training camps. I fucking swear, if it doesn't have novas then people don't remember a thing.

So it's no real surprise to me that my eyebrow has already creeped up while she ticks off her classes. Hmm, classes imply teachers and organization, something to follow up on later. Great, she's starting to fidget. Uncomfortable people leak information like a sieve but, like I said, that makes for an annoying dinner. "Oh, enjoy some good liquor," I reply, holding up the glass of scotch the waiter just deposited on the table, "Listen to some old music, read one of those old things called books; simple crap." I pause before I take a drink, moving like it's an afterthought, "Not that it matters, my ass is normally working on something anyways."

That warm sensation of the liquor sliding down my chest brings an extra jolt of energy to my body. Mmm, there's nothing like a good scotch. I set down the glass on the white linen and give the girl a reassuring smile, "S'alright, kid, I'm just wondering what you do to relax. Stuff you do for pleasure, gives you that little warm and fuzzy feeling inside." I've got a good clue of what her answer is going to be to that last one. "But more importantly," I continue, "you can relax. I'm not gonna hurt you and it'd be a shitty meal if at least one of us is all wound up."

[z-Clark]

Something warm and fuzzy? Clark repeats to herself, her massive intellect already framing an answer to the question even as she files away the next reply. Something does bring out this warm and fuzzy feeling that he's asking her for; something makes her happy. He's looking at her, his hard blue eyes pressing into her as she admits, "I feel that way when I'm with my family."

There is no change of expression, but there is the slightest tone of longing in her voice, the sound of childhood hurt that she would never lose. It is the sound of a child restrained, forced into a mold and required to subvert the immature joys of youth for adulthood.

Her green, green eyes rest on Sam, no anger or sorrow in them, just a quiet acceptance of the way things are. It is not the pain you share with strangers, but it is there before them, in the open.

"And I did not believe that you would hurt me," Clark replies before Sam can answer; does she not want him to answer? Her reply shows him the depth of her intellect for someone her age. "You would be a fool to attack me in public. This restaurant has a well-hidden camera system - I'm sure that my keepers have intruded on the system and are watching, as are your friends."

She takes another sip of water and adds, "You are correct; this will be a "shitty" meal if I am agitated. I will endeavor to return to a calm state. I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable."

[Sam Grey]

Great, I get one step closer to her acting more open and then she takes two steps back. The girl is smart, damn smart, and she's letting it rule herself. Shit like this never makes me happy, she's got heart and she's apparently not using it. Could be worse: she's not still in her damn lab. No, she's just off propositioning older and experienced men so she can scratch that itch her studies can't reach... all under the guise of science. Good thing I've got some principles in me, this girl needs some more balanced guidance. Or at least a valium so she won't be a stiff board in her first man's bed.

I tip my chin down a bit and give the girl a deadpan expression over the silverware and basket on the table, "C'mon, kid, that's not what I'm talking about." Damn, they do have some nice scotch here. Fucking shame I can't smoke though. Well, I could, but this place doesn't deserve my shit right now. "The point, kid," I say, knitting my fingers together as a waiter passes by with the strong scent of garlic following his food, "Is not just for you to not be agitated. Ages and pretext aside, we're two people out having dinner and it's a time for us to enjoy each other's company." Christ, I feel like I'm lecturing her. There's got to be more to the background to her, someone led her to this place in life. I've met plenty of brainiac that were still immature shits; she's skipped that step.

Lemme see what I can draw out of her. Maybe get a smile, a bit of excitement, or get her further away from that analytical stuff. My expression softens a bit, building a level of rapport and confidence with her, "Take a look around. You can tell the people that are enjoying themselves by how they hold themselves. That stupid grin on that lady, the way that guy is leaving toward that leggy blonde who can't get far enough away, little bits of laughter, and all that shit."

Ah, yep, she's definitely got a little Terat in her. The corner of my mouth slides into a knowing grin as she looks dismissively at my little comment, "Like it or not, kid, baselines have a complex social structure, one that novas really haven't transcended yet. You might be a walking god but these people have millions of years of practice. Mal, Ashnod, Doc Worm, all of them are powerful but they're still subject to the stupid social shit that's hardwired into every creature's genetics. Which means there's an important lesson to be learned in how these people act because it's damn similar to how your people will act."

Damnit, I should've ordered some garlic bread or fucking bruschetta. The scotch swirls again in my glass as I put it down after taking another sip, "Look at 'em again, kid: the ones having a good time are losing themselves in this. That's what I'm talking about. Just let go, don't analyze what I'm saying or the floride in your water. Enjoy the taste of your food when you get it. Talk about some of your fondest memories or some mind-blowing exciting experiment you've got. Or even ask me anything you want and take advantage of me being here." I give her a grin, trying to draw at least a small smile from her, "C'mon, kid, no matter who you end up with it's a lot better if you can let go and just enjoy the experience."

[z-Clark]

Clark stares intently at him throughout the last part of his speech, absorbing every word. When he is done speaking, her eyes move around the room, studying each person. She can see what he means - baselines have similar reactions in certain social situations that Novas do... and yet that's not the whole of the truth. If that blonde had been a Nova, she could have knocked the guy away from her, or manlipulated him until he didn't want her anymore.

Sam's picture that he wove - we are gods, but we are them, too - is quietly added to Clark's mind to be pondered later. But for now, she tries to acceed to his request.

"I like boxing because it is something that my oldest brother and I do together," Clark says, starting small. "Whenever he is visiting me, we spar, and while I don't like boxing, I like being with him." A small smile plays over her lips. "He usually wins."

[Sam Grey]

Good, she's starting to understand what I'm saying. Now if only other brainiacs could get it too. I nod as she speaks, encouraging her smile at the end with my own, "Older brothers are like that, eh? I know I lost to mine a few times." Siblings are always like that, establishing that subtle pecking order that never seems to break down, even when you're all the same size. This good; it's a hint of something closer to normal. Yea, I know, "normal." That shit doesn't exist for novas, so enjoy the joke.

I unroll the white napkin and set it down on my lap, keeping up the appearance of a nice calm dinner for everyone involved, "So do you get to see your brother often? Or maybe some other sibs?" Family is always a nice topic and she's got more than those scientific feelings about them.

[z-Clark]

"Actually, Leslie is younger than I," Clark says. "He is just bigger, even though he is two years my junior. He is better at the physical feats than I or anyone else in our family. And he can fly." She gives Sam another smile; this time it reaches her eyes, giving them a light sparkle. "I want him to teach me, but he doesn't have the time."

The sparkle fades a bit as she says, "I do not see my brothers often. Leslie is with my father much of the time, and I have not seen Adam since he was four." At Sam's questioning look, she explains, "It is safest for him to stay away from the family until he erupts. But once he erupts, he will join Mother or Father and I can see him more. He is only eight, so that will be at least three years."

She looks at the tabletop, then glances back at him. "What about your family? Do you see them often?"

[Sam Grey]

Innocuous enough names and relationships... Sure, it's quantum powered but average enough. She does raise a good point about the eruption issue and her brother... and, judging by the last time she saw him, that would time it right up with her hitting puberty. Yeah, really surprising, ain't it? A latent erupting at puberty. Interesting, and she went on and on about novas not being able to reproduce.

Like all good Italian places, the waiter has already brought some bread, a small plate, and mixed olive oil and cracked pepper together on the plate. Stuff like this woulda killed me over ten years ago but now it doesn't even phase my arteries. Small miracles, right? I swirl a bit of the bread in the oil, letting it dribble off the crust in the slowly dimming light, "Nah, not really. I've already outlived my parents and my three brothers..." I take a bite from the bread, shit I could eat that stuff all day, and buy myself a beat to consider. Nah, this isn't something worth being an ass about.

I clear my palate with some of the scotch, setting it to the side so the waiter knows to bring another, "Two of my brothers, Daniel and Chris, were killed in Vietnam." It's been over forty years but it still brings an edge to my voice. I catch the salt shaker with my eye and a small smile creeping in the corner of my mouth softens my words as my mind drifts back a bit in memory, "Ma and Pop didn't like it when me and my younger brother Anthony made our choices after that. They always said to do what we thought was right but that time what they thought was right and what we thought was right didn't match too much."

The hard crust of the bread crackles again as I tear off another chunk for myself and dip it in that sweet, artery-hardening oil, "Now Anthony... I always got along with him and his kids. Shame is cancer caught up with him before Triton really got going with those new medicines." I reach down to my napkin and wipe the oil off of my fingers, giving a resigned shrug, "The bitch ex and I never had any kids, so it was nice to be Uncle Sam for the tykes while I could. At least until they grew up." The girl is probably already thinking that I'm talking to her because I miss dealing my nieces and nephews and it's probably screwin' with her head. That's alright, I'd rather have her intrigued and interested right now.

The waiter finally fucking brings our food and another scotch for myself. At least he's not a nosy son of a bitch like too many waiters I've had before, I'll give him that. Once he's gone I start to shift my scallops around on my plate with a fork, letting out a bit of that smell that seems to follow most shellfish, "So you and your brotheres were latents, eh? Sounds like at least one of your parents are novas too, if not both. But from what I hear, Adam would erupt before puberty if he was around all of that power. Unless your parents are worried it'll do something nasty to him."

As an afterthought, I give her a broad smile as I split the scallops, "And yeah, I'd love to learn how to fly too."

[z-Clark]

Clark ignores the twinge of worry that runs down her back, scooping a thick noodle of pasta onto her fork. "Yes, my parents have erupted," she states in a flat, relaxed voice. "Adam is kept away for his safety; my parents deal with dangerous Novas, and they do not wish him to be exposed to that before he can defend himself."

His nieces and nephews sound interesting, but they also sound like baselines. That could explain his apparent fondness for the baselines in general, she thinks, but decides to let it pass. She not comfortable disagreeing with him, not yet, and so she steers the conversation to safer ground.

"Flying would be so much fun," she says wistfully, a smile crossing her face. She pauses to take another bite of her food. "I can almost fly now - I simply negate gravity in an area and I can float. It is something that I plan to try during my sexual experiment." Her green eyes meet Sam's boldly, without a blush or flinch. "I've heard from other gravity manlipulators that it is quite... satisfying."

[Sam Grey]

Hmm, the girl seems a little hesitant. Maybe I'm pressing into information she really doesn't want out. I can't blame her; what kind of old geezer like me eats dinner with a fifteen year old girl without supervision? S'alright by me, I don't mind backing off if she's not liking the topic. It's pointless if she just clams up and that's the last thing I want.

I stab a piece of scallop and pop it into my mouth without taking my eyes away from her bold stare. Yea, this one really is frank about certain things, isn't she? And she sounds damn excited to try things... might as well be a horny teenaged boy. "That's rather surprising, I would think it'd make it hard," I say while line up my next morsel, smiling at her quizzical look, "Having nothing to press off of makes it a little hard to keep things moving. 'Course, I've never been weightless before."

Damn, this place does sea scallops right. I'd better remember it for the next time I have a hankering. The girl decided to touch on sex finally... might as well give her basics, in case someone didn't tell her. I pause in my picking of my plate and focus on her, "Don't complicate things the first time, kid; just relax and enjoy it. And a tip not everyone gets to hear about: be on top first. You'll get to control the pace and the pain until you're comfortable with it." Shit, I sound like a dirty grandpa... damn it's fun, ain't it?

[z-Clark]

Clark face becomes very intent; Sam can almost see her taking internal notes. "Interesting," she says after a moment, her green eyes intense. The very thought brings a flush to her cheeks - warm, masculine body under her as she slide--

Clark breaks off the thought, forcing her attention back to her plate. She doggedly eats her food for a moment, forcing her body to calm down. Now is not the time to become lost one of the fantasies that has come to plague her so badly. Definitely not the time to consider how those large, calloused hands might feel on her skin.

Clark shoves the thought away with all her prodigious mental might. She takes a drink of water, the cool liquid chilling her all the way to her stomach. Stay calm, thing clearly. She repeats the mantra as she continues to focus on her food, and she feels her heart rate slow and become steady.

“Do you have some other advice?” she asks. “Perhaps something that I should do for my partner?”

[Sam Grey]

Looks like I knocked her more off guard than I expected. I mention one or two things about sex and she's already lighting up like a Christmas tree. But is it because she's embarrassed or getting worked up... either way, this girl is easily thrown by the topic. Gotta be interest: she's too mechanical and driven to be wanting to get her first time over with if she's embarrassed by the topic. Figures, the brainiacs are always the real hellcats.

Hey, she still wants to hear more. Hopefully she won't press too fucking hard, I'm really not in the mood for the wrong person to hear the wrong thing and get the wrong idea. I shrug calmly, keeping the mood subdued for those who might look over, "All depends on the partner, kid. Soft or rough, silent or loud, quick or endless, everyone has their own tastes." I give my scotch another swirl before taking a sip, "There's always some nice physical things to do but it's a real bitch for me to just explain." Yeah, I'd have to be naked and in the act with her to explain things and that ain't gonna happen; her cute is that young kind of cute, not like a certain someone else I know.

I spear one of the remaining pieces of scallop and keep her attention on me, "The best thing you can do for him is let him know you're enjoying yourself. If you actually are." As long as she doesn't end up acting like a talking encyclopedia of the act then I think whoever she finally corners will thank me. "And," I continue between dabbing my mouth, "Don't put too much pressure on it. Most people have a real shitty first time... if you get that fully body twitch then consider yourself lucky." Judging by things that ain't gonna be a problem: she's looking for an experienced man, not some dumb high school jock that can't understand a fucking brazier.

[z-Clark]

Full body twitch... Just hearing the words makes Clark shiver, just a little. Somedays, she wondered what was wrong with her, but she had run tests and could find nothing physically wrong. She was sure it was psychosomantic, but her attempts to control her thought patterns had failed.

It should have been a simple matter to convince her mind that she did not want sexual contact, but it was distressingly difficult to actually do it. It was beyond frustrating. And being around attractive men made it that much worse, like it was tonight at dinner. At least in her lab, none of the men could be physically attractive - they had beautiful thought capacities, but most of them were physically weak. And, besides, far too many were too interested in their work to consider sex.

So far, the only Nova that she had suitable within her circle of associates had been Leslie, which technically made him completely unsuitable. And now, the only other male that she had found was uninterested. Clark carefully hides her frustration and restarts the conversation.

"Is that all the advice you have? I would greatly prefer that my first time not be 'shitty,' as you put it," she asks as she uses one of her round noodles to scoop up some sauce. "You also mentioned something about help 'bagging a partner.'"

[Sam Grey]

Damn, that girl really is full of hormones and she's gonna burst if she doesn't do something about it. At least she's got a handle on it, too many kids her age just shove it away like it's some kind of demon trying to "corrupt their immortal soul" or some other shit like that. Please, crap like that leads to shotgun weddings and explosions of the clap. Those parent watchdog groups have never gotten it: the more taboo you make something the more those pesky teenagers want to do it.

Anyways, I'd better help the little cutie while I can. I finish off the last bit of scotch in my glass, putting it to the side in hopes the waiter catches my drift, "Unless I reconsider, kid, the best thing I can tell you is how to avoid that initial pain and that you should just try to enjoy yourself. Tell him to keep doing what feels good and do what he says feels good in return." Poor kid, she should be having someone a little closer to her telling her this kind of stuff. Not some random old guy like me.

"As for finding a partner," I continue while sitting back a bit in my chair, "You're learning already. You came off a little cold with me, kid. Take away the age issue and you still would've had an uphill battle. You want to talk with the person, deal with them on a level lower than intellectulism. Sex is something that's below that little thing we call sentience and you gotta acknowledge that sometimes. See, tonight we've been talking together, learning a little bit about each other, and getting comfortable. That's what you want to do; get both of you comfortable with each other and it'll all fall into place from there.

"Do you have anyone particular in mind as a partner, kid? Sometimes you do different things with different people..."

[z-Clark]

Clark's eyes narrow thoughtfully. This evening was giving her information, but mostly negative information; what not to do. What she really needs is positive information. She thought that she had gotten that, but Mr. Grey's information was shredding her carefully-drawn conclusions.

"I had not made a selection beyond yourself," she states absentmindly, her mind mulling through the information she has recieved tonight. "You were the only male Nova I could find on record who was willing to publically engage in sexual relations without a committed relationship. Or, at least, the only one I could find who seemed to be someone I would enjoy talking to as well as sleeping with." She is quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you have a recommendation for someone else?"

As Sam considers that for a moment, she sighs, "You say that we are getting comfortable, but that is not enough, apparently."

Shrugging off her brief, gentle complaint, she continues. "And also, you said that my age makes a difference. Why? And what would make it not an up-hill battle?" she queries, her voice soft.

[Sam Grey]

Poor kid, looks like I hit some sensitive spots. Which is good; if she's uncomfortable then she needs too reassess things. What, so I want to give the kid a hand, sue me. She hiked her ass out here knowing she wasn't going to get what she wanted, this is the least I can do. Not that my advice is the best thing for her; I'm really old enough be her grandfather. Or, Christ, her great-grandfather if everyone was kicking out babies at her age.

I weave my fingers together on the table while leaning forward, helping to establish a sense of privacy and intimacy, "I appreciate your confidence in me, kid, but I need to warn you about some things. Most men that loudly announce their availability for random and meaningless sexual encounters with minors are predators. If I know my biology right, that noggin' of yours is still developing, makin' complex little connections until you act like us old fogies, and those kind of predators can fuck up that development like nobody's business." I let out a little smile, already anticipating her thoughts, "And yeah, I was your age once and I thought no one could warp me too. Trust me, kid, in ten years you'll understand what I'm talkin' about."

I keep my face soft, smoothing out what I'm tellin' her, "Age is tricky, kid. You're smart as a whip and you're probably going to be quite the looker, but I can see your youth and that kicks in the whole subconscious platonic barrier. Trust me, kid, if things were a bit different or a few years later you wouldn't be going home alone." Nothing like a brainy redhead, especially one that can float.

"So," I continue, keeping my position to maintain that focused atmosphere, "Unless you want total perverts you might want to stick with men on your side of age thirty. If not twenty-five." Yea, I know I keep harping on that, but it's the truth. "That's where I'd start; experienced men within that bracket. And to make things easier..."

A sigh slips out of me but I keep the smile on my lips, "Identify with the person. Sex isn't an experiment, kid, it's a primal, instinctive, emotional thing. Smile at him, flirt with him, compliment him, and be coy. Find a guy you're interested in and ask him out to dinner and whatever might come afterwards. You gotta find that happy balance between being forward and being modest."

I shake my head as I let out a little chuckle, "Scientists go on and on about the complex shit animals do to mate, like it's some kind of miracle, all the while baselines and novas alike go through even stranger rituals.

"So what else do you want to know?"

[z-Clark]

Clark is silent, ruminating. Her intense green eyes are empty to Sam, showing nothing of the thoughts running through her mind.

I must remember all of this, but he's not really telling me anything useful. Again, much of it is negative information. Perhaps I can glean a clue out of it, something that will help.

However, I have learned one valuable piece of information: I must develop something to offset my age. Leslie appears to be more attractive than is possible for a thirteen-year-old. Perhaps if I were more attractive than I currently am, then I would not have such an 'uphill battle.'

Also, I must attempt this flirting. I have read about it in my studies, but I had hoped to avoid that type of interaction if at all possible. However, if I am forced to engage in it, and I must apparently engage in it, then I should practice it.

And there is no time like the present. After all, if he is unwilling, then I literally have nothing to lose.

Clark accesses her prodigious memory, drawing forth the information she needed. She quickly assimilates the knowledge and began to acts on it. As if loading a program, Clark goes from reserved, quiet bookish girl to a smiling, warm young woman. Her fingers lightly caress the curving edge of her glass as she says, “What else would I like to know?”

She makes a slight show of thinking, then tilts her head charmingly, making her hair whisper around her face. “Tell me about your first time? What was it like? How old were you?”

[Sam Grey]

Damn, this girl can change things up fast. Who knew she had this waiting inside of her? Good for her; either she's learning or she's practicing her ability to hide. I give her an encouraging grin, "That's good, kid. It adds some age and you look like you're in the moment; that makes us men start thinking with the other head. Just don't put it on too strong." Oh yeah, the men and the boys won't know what him 'em.

Now, my first time... heh, the girl really is picking up on things. Give her enough time and practice and she'll be turning things around and taking me home. I wonder if her parents knew she had this in her when they signed that letter... I roll my hands open for a beat as if they're shrugging, "I was sixteen; scared and excited out of my mind." Shit, who doesn't feel like that the first time? A little grin pops on my face as I reminisce for a moment, "Back seat of my Dad's Buick with Jenny Collins after seeing On Her Majesty's Secret Service... heh, I barely figured out how to use the rubber before she yanked me up close. Looking back, it was pretty damn mediocre sex but at the time I was on cloud nine and it only got better after that.

"Make sure you don't do it in a car: you don't want bare skin sticking to the seats when you're figuring everything out for the first time." Hmm, let's see how much of a change this is for her. I give the girl a playful smile, "Come on, kid, that's an easy one. What else ya got?"

[z-Clark]

Sam doesn't embarrass easy, so Clark decides to get more... personal. Shifting her stance forward slightly – Reduction of personal space is an important indication of sexual attraction – Clark smiles coyly. This is actually turning out to be easier than she had thought it would be, and she feels her mind gearing up to the challenge before her.

“You want hard?” She puts a slight emphasis on that word because it’s on the list of words that make men think of sex. Her fingers rub slowly and gracefully on her water glass – Rub cylindrical objects to turn men’s minds to their penis; they’ll think of you rubbing it. – as she lets her tongue play at her lips a touch – Draw attention to your mouth whenever possible. “Perhaps then you could tell me what you would do to me, if you had agreed to take me home tonight. What you would do first. How you would make me scream.”

Clark wasn’t sure about that last sentence; she had found it on a chat room board and she didn’t see the appeal of it. The person who had posted it had sworn that it drove men crazy.

Then Clark hears what she said, and how she said it. Was that too much? Clark’s expression doesn’t change as she worriedly realizes that she might have been too forward. There is only one way to know, she thinks to herself: she waits for his response.

[Sam Grey]

She's got the words and the motions down, just a little tweak here and there and she'd be set. Damn, if she wasn't a kid... heh, this is what I get for challenging a wunderkind like that. But if she wants to play like that then we'll play for just a little bit. Times like this I feel like I'm wearing a really big wool sweater, ya know?

I shift my body language just enough to hint at intimacy while taunting her with what she might get to have. "You need to relax first, Clark," I say in a different, slower voice while closing more of the space between us, "Someone needs to help you let all of that stress bleed out of you while you lie back without any effort until you feel like rubber. And then..."

The coy and tantalizing look on my face slowly morphs to a smile, "... Well, you'll have to wait for a few years before I can show you the rest." I tilt my head a bit to the side as the sensual look slips away, "Good words and delivery, though, kid. Just don't make it your opening move." I move back to our old distance before, bringing up a sincere smile, "You hit me in all the spots, kid, right where the brain shuts down... but you're not gonna be the only one at there who knows about them."

[z-Clark]

The flash of emotion that streaks across her face is gone too fast for Sam to catch what it is. Clark, of course, is all too aware that it is anger. He was playing with me, she growls to herself as her face remains in pleasant lines.

Settling back slightly herself, Clark's face loses some of it's coyness and instead becomes pleasant and smiling. "Mr. Grey, that is hardly the way to answer my question," she calmly points out. "You indicated that my questions were too easy, so I made them difficult. And you patronize me. That is not the way adults treat one another.

"You may look at me and see a child's body, but I assure you, I am not a child," Clark continues in that same calm, neutral voice. "I erupted when I was eleven. When I was twelve, I co-authored a paper that was published in the leading magnetics journal. By thirteen, the lab that I oversee was producing materials that helped revoluntionize space travel - again. I played a major part in the creation of that material and my research was acknowledged by the highest scholars in the field. At fourteen, I had successfully made a "spin-dizzy" from high-grade titanum; last week, I produced one that still works but is made of construction steel. The implications my research has on transportation and aerospace is staggering.

"So I am going to ask that you forget how old I am," Clark finishes with only a slight edge to her voice, "and realize that I have better cognitive functions than most people four times my age. And I am not speaking of intelligence. I am speaking of those 'complex little connections' that you are sure I do not possess. You are thinking of me like a baseline. I am not, and my mind is not built like one either. If I were a baseline, then yes, I would agree with the assessment that I am a child. But I am not, and I will not. I ask that you treat me as an adult, and decline to answer rather than mock me."

[Sam Grey]

It's funny, isn't it, when teenagers walk right into their own words? 'I'm an adult! Ooo! Ooo! Treat me like one of you but don't punish me for acting like an immature idiot!' Yea, real cute... fuck, I remember being that age and I acted the same damn way. Everyone gets it as they get older and she'll get it too so I can't really hold it against her. I slowly shake my head, keeping my expression soft to relax her, "You misunderstand; you jumped from easy to stuff you don't open with, which I mentioned, and that wasn't patronizing, kid. Like I said, the man might know how to play that game as well as you, maybe better, and you might as well get a feel for what it's like with someone who has some scruples." Yes, I have scruples.

I keep my eyes on that green pair, show just enough softness to help defuse any problems, "I am treating you like an adult, kid, probably exactly the same way I'd be treating your parents. Or that jackass Pax or peacock Orzaiz. I know you're smart and I could go on and on about the difference between smarts and experience, but I'm not because if I were in your shoes I'd be pretty pissed off about it. I'm treating you like an adult who's come to me for my experience.

"Trust me, kid, I'm not mocking you; I'm trying to help you so that when you meet someone colder than me you won't get your wish at the price of some real trauma. And, believe it or not, I like your company and your smarts. I ain't got a bit of maliciousness in me towards you."

[z-Clark]

Clark forced herself to calm down. Anger had always been a downfall for her, and she ran the risk now of pushing away the first Nova she had met outside of her family's circle of friends. Like her lust, it was something that she could control - with effort.

"I apologize Mr. Grey," she says after a moment. But pulling back her temper required her to shut down all of her excess emotions, and the quiet, reserved teenager sat across from him again. "I am very new at sociolization outside of a small circle of associates. I misunderstood your intent."

But part of her is warm and happy - he likes her company. No one had ever said that to her before and she is surprised at how good it felt to hear that. She tries a tentative smile that actually looks better than any of the other expressions that she's tried yet as she asks, "Is that apology acceptable to you?"

[Sam Grey]

Hmm, I might be pushing this girl too much. Nah, she needs some pushing in stuff like this. She's such an eager beaver with everything else but this ain't the sort of thing you do on your own. And people used to complain about kids growing up too fast: this girl is only fifteen and she's just now looking to get freaky. 'bout the same age everyone has for the past fifty years. Still, it looks like she's warming up to me and that's enough of an accomplishment.

"S'alright, kid," I say with a shrug, "I understand you got a little worked up; happens to all of us. What's important is that I actually help you and that you're having some fun." Yeah, this kid needs a chance to have some fun. Not like that, you perverts, I'm still not saying yes. I try to bring out that brighter side of her again with a grin, "If you want more of that socialization help or advice, kid, my time isn't limited to tonight. My physical availability might be shit sometimes but an opmail might answer a quick question when that's a problem."

[z-Clark]

This sounds like friendship. Clark had heard of this before, when someone was kind to you without any other reason than they liked you. She had her family, who loved her because she was theirs, and she had her collegues, who liked her because they respected her.

But why would Sam Grey, a man who she knew almost nothing about and who barely knew her, like her? Clark was aware of her difficulties relating the people; painfully aware after watching the ease with which Leslie interacted with the world. Sitting at the table, talking to Sam, Clark had the sudden, sure feeling that her brother could not only easily get sex, but probably already had. She was a little envious, but the feeling quickly passed. She had her gifts, and she wouldn't give them up for anything.

"Thank you for your understanding," Clark smiles, her expression warming slightly again. "I must continue to work on my social skills. I will consult you further if I need help."

The waiter slips back to their table and clears the plates. As he works, he jovially asks, "Will it be dessert for anyone tonight?" He flashes Sam a bright, professional grin and says, "All daddies should buy their daughters chocolate cake, and we have one of the best chocolate cakes in Connecticut. It's a triple-layer cake, made from stratch with the finest cocoa. The icing is fine dark chocolate, and you can have chopped walnuts on the top if you like. The whole slice is served over fudge and carmel drizzle and comes with cool whip on the side. What do you say?" He flashes another smile at Sam. "Gonna treat your daughter before she gets too old for that?"

[Sam Grey]

Father? Ha! I expected someone to say something like that and it still sounds funny as hell. I flash the girl a conspiratorial smile before looking to the waiter, "More like grandpappy than daddy." I could go more for ice cream than cake but who the fuck is going to say no to chocolate? "How 'bout it, kid, you gonna let the old man treat you to some cake?"

[z-Clark]

Clark sighs inwardly as she realizes that this is humor. The twinkle in Sam's eye, that roguish grin on his lips: they are all classic indications of humor - a secretive humor, if she's not mistaken. Sam intends to play a joke on the waiter without the waiter being aware of the humor.

Clark wishes that she were better at this kind of thing. Her mind comes up with seventeen different responses immediately; it only takes her a fraction of a second to consider and discard several. Another tiny proportion of a second is spent perusing the remainder to determine which is the most appropriate while maintaining the maximum humor. Once she has one selection, she takes another portion of a second to review it and verify that it will work.

“If you are my granddaddy, then I suppose you are required to spoil me with unhealthy but delicious food,” Clark smiles, batting her eyelashes a touch at Sam. Turning to look at the startled waiter, she confirms, “The chocolate cake you prattled off at us – I assume that you will attest to its deliciousness?”

“Ahhh, sure,” the waiter replies, his jovial banter gone. “It’s a real favorite around here.”

Clark is sure that it will not be satisfactory, not to her refined Nova tastes, but she did like chocolate cake. She just hoped that they didn’t ruin it too much – her pasta had been edible, but fair from acceptable. When eating at a baseline establishment, one must eat as a baseline, she reminds herself as she tells the waiter, “Then I will allow my granddaddy to spoil me.”

Glancing at Sam, she hopes that he’s amused by her joke. It was her best attempt so it should work, but humor is not like conducting an experiment – sometimes even a tried and true formula failed. She’s interrupted by the waiter hesitantly asking him, “And one for you, too, sir?”

[Sam Grey]

Heh, the girl is trying to play along; I like that. Who the fuck knows if she's enjoying it but at least she's accomidating like that. Damn shame she had to use the three dollar words on the waiter. I give the waiter a courtesy smile and wave my hand, "No, one should be just fine. With two forks." My eyes flash back to the girl, seeing if she's getting anything out of it, "Sometimes my little scientists bites off more than she can chew." Appearances, appearances, right?

With the waiter gone I flash her a smile of appreciation, "Thanks, kid, sometimes it's fun to fuck with the help." That and it deflects people from finding out the truth but there's no need to elaborate on that. Leaning forward again, I arch an interested eyebrow, "So what else do you have planned lately? Experiments? Research?" That grin returns, "'cause if you want a change of pace sometime in the future, something to remind you why you like science, I'm sure I can give you a rather mundane break for a day."

[z-Clark]

The future? Clark thinks about it for a second. She has lots of things coming up, but in truth, only one event has any weight in her mind. Should she talk to Sam about it though?

"My father should be coming home soon," Clark says. "And he will bring Leslie with him. And I think that we'll even get to see Adam." Her eyes meet Sam's as she softly adds, "He has been gone for several weeks. I used to see him once a month, but he has been gone for over a year now. I look forward to seeing him again." The thought is stirring up an uncomfortable amount of hope and pain, and Clark realizes that she needs to stop discussing this.

"I have a magentics conference coming up in New Orleans in early November," Clark continues. "I have to pretend to be a student, but in truth, I will be there to study the latest advancements for Disdyne." She frowns as she pleats a clean corner of her napkin. "I enjoy the conferences, but it is so irritating to have people far less intelligent than you treating you like you are a stupid child."

A thought occurs to her and she smiles, her irritation fading. "I will be in New Orleans on the fourth through the sixth; we could meet for a meal if you are going to be in the area."

[Sam Grey]

Family is definitely important to this girl, something central to her life. Though, it's an odd arrangement she's describing... well, odd to an old fart like me; I grew up in the age of the nuclear family. I nod politely as she talks about her daddy, letting her talk instead of interjecting. Yeah, she doesn't seem to be in the giving mood for that one. Nuttin' wrong with that, it's a private topic and I still don't want her uncomfortable.

Heh, business and science events, those are always a real dry load of fun. Shame someone her age has to put up with that shit already. Fuck, it's a shame when anyone has to put up with it. Before I can answer her, the waiter returns with the towering piece of cake, complete with two chilled forks. "There we are," the tool says with that customer service smile, "Some yummy cake for the young lady." Heh, yeah, I'm sure she did not like that last sentence. Before he leaves, the waiter slips the faux leather tab holder onto the table next to me, "You can pay me whenever you're ready."

Once he's gone, I shake my head at the girl with a tiny smile as a quiet way to share her obvious frustration at that her treatment. She might need to grow but she's not an idiot. As she starts to dig in, I lean forward again towards her, "I think I might be in the area 'round then. I know a few places there you might enjoy or at least find... interesting. Hell, I can even show you some places to just plain relax. But, either way, I can help ya forget the stupid little girl treatment for a meal.

"And... how's that cake?"

[z-Clark]

Clark scowls at the waiter; he's already turned to Sam and misses the dark look she tosses him. After he leaves, Clark takes a fork and cuts a corner of cake away with exact precision. Sam's not sure she even meant to do it that way; precision seems to be second nature for her.

The cake is moist and crumbly in her mouth; the icing is soft and sweet. It is good, Clark concedes. Sometimes baselines can rise above themselves.

Sam seems to understand her frustrations, or at least he pretends that he understands very well. Clark is still happy to hear that he's willing to meet with her in New Orleans. For once, she's looking forward to a conference for personal reasons. "That would be very nice," she says, taking another bite of the cake. "I look forward to that meeting."

"And... how's that cake?"

Clark smiles as she says, "Good. Would you care to have some?" Sam declines, waiting until she pushes the plate at him. With a third of the cake left, she points out, "You need to have some now, or you will not get any. And here," she reaches into her laptop and produces a credit card, "would you slip this in that holder?"

[Sam Grey]

Damn, the girl likes her chocolate. Good; people need to acknowledge the little things they enjoy. I grab the plate from her and finish pulling it all the way in front of me while snatching up the other fork, "If it's that good then I'd better get it while I can." Let's see if the frosting is any good, cake is total shit without good frosting. I pull a piece away from the cake, making sure there's a good layer of frosting slathered onto it, and I take a bite. Oh yeah, they definitely got the frosting right.

I shake my head when the girl offers the card, "Put that away, kid, I've got it covered this time. You can worry about that in Nawlin's." As I reach into my coat I take a look at the bill. Ah fuck, this is defnitely going on the expense ledger. I quickly count out the cash, being sure to add in that extra for the tip. The waiter was on time and relatively courteous... the girl didn't like him so much but what else should I expect?

With the bill squared away, I slide the plate into the middle of the table so both of us can reach it with our forks, "C'mon, we can be a little naughty and eat it at the same time." I take a smaller piece from the cake, letting her attack as much of it as she wants, "At the very least, kid, you can say you had some good cake tonight, right?"

[z-Clark]

Clark slowly takes the card back, feeling disgrunted. This is not the way she had intended for this night to go. But then, Sam had altered many of her expectations for the evening. This is why I do not like social interaction, she grumps to herself. The interactions are unpredictable and highly likely to vary based on the person. It makes determining the outcome extremely difficult.

Clark digs into the cake again, but she takes smaller bites, letting Sam have most of what is left. "The cake is adequate enough to salvage the night," she agrees. The dinner will end soon, but Clark is loathe to see it go. And yet... he's refused her offer, and there is no way to force him into it.

The last piece of cake disappears, and with a sigh of defeat, Clark acknowledges that her purpose at dinner failed. It sits poorly with her; she's rarely failed to achieve a goal that she has set for herself. She feels heavy with uncertainity and defeat, her body sinking downward as if gravity had increased it's pull on her.

She hates this feeling. She fights to hide it, to be a good sport about it, but it hurts her pride and makes her stomach twist. But he was also her new friend; it was more than she had expected to recieve tonight and so she managed to comfort herself with that.

"I often get good food," she smiles, trying to start up the conversation again. "You sound as though you are often busy. Do you get to have good food like this, or is this a treat?" She hopes that her question isn't as asinine as it sounds to her. Why couldn't she just input the data into a computer and have an answer rather than all this painful dancing around?