She nodded and let the compliment slide, her red lips curling a bit--whether a smirk or a scowl he couldn't tell, because it vanished quickly. She then shrugged casually. "I like my work, and I work best alone. Not too many people prefer my field."
Moroy leaned in slightly as she spoke. Sylvia could tell every move of his was calculated and intentional; either a sign of a lack of self-esteem or total complacency. She was leaning toward the latter. Her thoughts were interrupted with his reply, "I can't stand working alone. I honestly don't know what I'd do without Etna."
His hands folded on the table, not quite passing the imaginary line that divided them, "so what is it that you do?"
I can imagine what he does with her, Sylvia mused in her head. She looked to the side and spoke softly. "I'm an Adjunct. Pyro and Ice." She knew adjuncts were uncommon, if not rare; most of them who were finally picked a side and abandoned half of their work.
His eyes widened. If he wasn't totally fascinated by her before, he was now. "Impressive. Honestly, I thought most adjuncts either fought in wars or gave up on one element. I've never met one who works in a lab before. Why do you love it so much, if you don't mind me asking?"
She looked back at him and noticed his spiked interest. "Well, I admire creativity. And I guess I'm not content to be contained by one element. I'd pick a third one if I could." She looked up, wondering when they'd be ordering.
When she looked up, she noticed something bizarre... there was nobody else in the restaurant. She could hear the sound of dishes clanging in the back, but not a single other person was at a table. Perhaps the rain kept them away, or maybe the speech yesterday was slowing down business. It was impossible to tell.
"You must be starving" observed Moroy. As if on cue, a waiter appeared. It was a woman only a few years older than Sylvia. She was shorty and busty wearing a black blouse with a high collar and slim black pants. Her royal purple hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail as she pulled out a note-pad and addressed them, "have you decided on anything yet?"
Sylvia arched a brow curiously and then nodded to the waitress. "I'd like some fish, and a little bit of wine. Red." She looked at Moroy, making sure he didn't mind her order. If there's no problem, she then leans closer to him. "Any idea why we've got the whole restaurant to ourselves?"
"Because the restaurant is technically closed. I'm pretty good friends with the owner, so she's kind enough to let me in after hours. I hope you don't mind."
The waitress scribbled down notes, trying not to listen to their conversation before turning to the man, "and the usual for you tonight, Moroy?" With a bashful grin he smiled, "you know me too well."
That wasn't a good sign--flirting around with the second woman around her, at a dinner that was arranged personally by him? Her gut response was to sense he was trying to move in on her. But she decided to give him a chance--especially if he was going to be working with her.
"And what about you? You seem to be well connected."
With a modest shrug, he tried to be humble, "I'm a gregarious person. I love talking to people and meeting new people. I think if I didn't have Etna working with me, I would spend all my time talking."
The waitress laughed as she disappeared into the kitchen. Moroy moved back slightly and crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. "No offense, but you don't seem like the social type. I really appreciate you coming tonight."
"Consider it a professional courtesy. Besides, you're paying, and I was hungry. Works for me." She pulled off her gloves and checked her nails as she sat, waiting idly for her food--she didn't want to look like she was grilling him.
He made no effort to conceal that he was studying her every move. Her nervous habits, the way she responded to his prompts, the way she reacted when he spoke to the waitress.
"So what kind of project are you working on now? Anything that could help Etna and I along?"
She looks back at him with her piercing blue eyes--she seemed to be giving off mixed signals. At one moment she was very aware of him, very in tune with him, and he could read her feelings, but the next she put up this cold, professional front; much like the elements she dealt with.
"I'm working on a quick and effective way to immobilize a sudden intruder. The best I've done so far is a flash of light in the eyes and a layer of ice on the feet. But I'm trying to expand the uses for dual casting--you know, to encourage creativity."
His lips curled, playfully commenting, "well if I walked in and you were looking like you are right now, I'd certainly be frozen in my tracks."\
The waitress returned with a bottle of wine, stopping any chance Sylvia may have had for a witty reply. The girl brought two glasses their food. Moroy had ordered a yellow rice dish that smelled spicy but light. With a smile and a nod, the girl went back into the kitchen.
Moroy grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring a glass for Sylvia before pouring one for himself. "A red wine drinker. I wouldn't have guess it." The statement seemed innocent enough, but they were a clear indication that Moroy's read on her wasn't perfected quite yet.
Sylvia's red eyebrow arched once more--an obvious attempt to hit on her this time. She still wasn't warmed up to him, but still, she was glad that he was at least appreciating the effort she'd put in, though it didn't seem like much at the time.
Just as she thought she would retort, the food arrived, and she thanked the woman for the meal and took her glass. Looking back at Moroy, she raised the glass carefully and sniffed it, then took a sip. "I may work late a lot, but I'm not shut out from the simpler pleasures of the world."
Moroy asked another ambiguous but carefully planned question, "any other pleasures that you indulge in that you'd like to tell me about?" He took a bite of his food, deliberately pausing before adding onto his question, "jogging, perhaps?"
"I like burning things that try to get too close." She eyed him with an equally smarmy grin at him, taking a bite and watching him just as carefully. "Otherwise, I like to travel, and I like to.. watch."
The smooth operator nearly choked on his food at her reply. Yup, just as feisty as I thought she'd be. He looked up at her, trying to gain his composure. He loved to keep asking questions and rather disliked answering them, so he tried to press further, "travelling where? Watching what?"
Sylvia's expression turned professional once more. "Unfortunately my work keeps me tethered here, but I like to travel from town to town, and just watch how people use our work. Being stuffed in a lab so much, you rarely get to see what practical uses people have made to your innovations, especially with ones as rare as mine."
Then, as she took another bite, she eyed him with a strange wily look, licking her lips. "Why, what do you do for pleasure, Mr. Moroy?"
He didn't like how the focus of the conversation had shifted but he hid his discomfort as he drank a sip of wine, "I'm a bit of an artist. Working in our field is very analytical and scientific thinking. I find art to be the opposite, and it's rather liberating. In a world where people are always moving and the planet itself is constantly changing, I like to capture the essence of a single moment. I suppose you're looking to freeze people and I'm looking to freeze moments."
In an attempt to shift the focus over to her once again, he dove into some more serious questions, "so what does your significant other think of all your late nights at the office?"
"If I had a significant other, he'd better be used to it by now," she sipped her wine and ate in turn. "Why, are you concerned about them? A late night is all based on a point of view--though I do have to thank you." She looked at him, her expression remaining wily, feeling like she'd been able to pin what he was trying to do, and decided to have a little fun.
"There's no need to thank me" he carefully replied, making his calculated move in this chess game of a conversation, "after all, I'm the new one in the lab. It's my duty to make good employee relations. After all, I wouldn't want anybody getting any wrong ideas. I'm sorry if Etna wasn't very warm. She doesn't like when people distract us. And by 'us', I really mean just me."
That sounds quite appropriate. Sylvia couldn't stifle a smirk as she heard him mention that. "I don't recall extending this level of employee relations in the job description," she muttered, taking a bite. "Why don't you tell me the real reason I'm here in a black dress after hours, alone with you while you try to ink every fact out of me that you can?" She grinned her white teeth, this time doing straight for the jugular.
She had made the error of revealing her thoughts, something that Moroy wasn't ready to let her get away with quite yet. "What do you mean the real reason?" he asked, feigning innocence, "I just wanted to get to know you. I already told you, I'm a gregarious person. I enjoy meeting people. As for the black dress... that was your choice. I thought you looked great in a lab coat."
He took a larger gulp of his wine, smiling as he did so.
"Oh, so you were eyeing me earlier, then? And I wouldn't be here if I hadn't looked so great, I'm willing to bet." She licked her lips slowly and took a long sip. "Of all the folks working in the institute, you single me out." It's hardly a coincidence, but he's trying too hard not to let him keep at it.
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His hands folded on the table, not quite passing the imaginary line that divided them, "so what is it that you do?"
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"You must be starving" observed Moroy. As if on cue, a waiter appeared. It was a woman only a few years older than Sylvia. She was shorty and busty wearing a black blouse with a high collar and slim black pants. Her royal purple hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail as she pulled out a note-pad and addressed them, "have you decided on anything yet?"
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The waitress scribbled down notes, trying not to listen to their conversation before turning to the man, "and the usual for you tonight, Moroy?" With a bashful grin he smiled, "you know me too well."
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"And what about you? You seem to be well connected."
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The waitress laughed as she disappeared into the kitchen. Moroy moved back slightly and crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. "No offense, but you don't seem like the social type. I really appreciate you coming tonight."
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"So what kind of project are you working on now? Anything that could help Etna and I along?"
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"I'm working on a quick and effective way to immobilize a sudden intruder. The best I've done so far is a flash of light in the eyes and a layer of ice on the feet. But I'm trying to expand the uses for dual casting--you know, to encourage creativity."
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The waitress returned with a bottle of wine, stopping any chance Sylvia may have had for a witty reply. The girl brought two glasses their food. Moroy had ordered a yellow rice dish that smelled spicy but light. With a smile and a nod, the girl went back into the kitchen.
Moroy grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring a glass for Sylvia before pouring one for himself. "A red wine drinker. I wouldn't have guess it." The statement seemed innocent enough, but they were a clear indication that Moroy's read on her wasn't perfected quite yet.
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Just as she thought she would retort, the food arrived, and she thanked the woman for the meal and took her glass. Looking back at Moroy, she raised the glass carefully and sniffed it, then took a sip. "I may work late a lot, but I'm not shut out from the simpler pleasures of the world."
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Then, as she took another bite, she eyed him with a strange wily look, licking her lips. "Why, what do you do for pleasure, Mr. Moroy?"
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In an attempt to shift the focus over to her once again, he dove into some more serious questions, "so what does your significant other think of all your late nights at the office?"
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He took a larger gulp of his wine, smiling as he did so.
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