[ He gets that it's Midge, so she stops singing it. That's probably best for just the first text, she thinks. A reminder of who's sending it, and then a conversation. It doesn't matter that Nate can see her username. ]
i'm dying to know what it is about me that makes you think gossip is my trade
are we talking basic facts for personal reference? because i can supply those. might not be able to provide you with a list on who's got a crush on who.
[ Sure enough, it takes Midge an hour and 10 minutes to appear at the Red Wings. She looks great (she always looks great), and as she opens the door to spot Nate she gives a half-wave. ]
She looks great (since when does she not?) and Nate nods in acknowledgement, hovering by one of the many poured-concrete columns supporting their strange little sports bar. When she makes her way over to him he gestures at the table in the corner, pressed up against the storefront windows, directly adjacent to the door, as if indicating that this is where he intends to seat them.
Nate lets it hang in the air just long enough to be funny before grinning. ]
I'm messing with you, it's over here. [ A quick head-jerk off to his left, to an empty table closer to the bar. ] You look nice.
[ She should have expected it--Nathan is almost as charming as she is, which is a pretty big feat--and the moment she spots the table meant for them she shoots the other a playful look. She can't be mad. She should be annoyed, but she's not. It's funny. ]
Thank you. You look dashing--is that a new henley?
[ Is she joking? Is she not? Who knows. She smoothes her dress out to properly sit down. ]
[ He says airily, wearing the same shirt she saw him in last week when he suggested they try to locate a deli in New Amsterdam, of all godforsaken places. Nate settles at the next seat over instead of across the table, reaching for something in his bag and withdrawing a notebook, bound in blue leather.
He slides it toward her with a surreptitious smile. ]
[ Midge is going to ignore the fact that he didn't pull the chair out for her--mostly because she's used to it here by now, and also because she's hurriedly putting down her purse and taking off her gloves, looking absolutely giddy. She's so eager to snatch the book up her purse falls off of the table onto the chair she's supposed to be sitting in, a lipstick falling out, Midge oblivious. ]
You didn't.
[ He obviously did, and Midge's smile could split her face into two as she picks up the notebook, a small noise coming out of her mouth that can only be described as a squeal as she starts to leaf through it. ]
I thought paper was supposed to be sent to the museums. How the hell did you find this?!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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can't reach something on a top shelf?
[ ;) ]
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And I have a step stool for that, thank-you.
-Midge
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okay, okay
what's going on?
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[ He gets that it's Midge, so she stops singing it. That's probably best for just the first text, she thinks. A reminder of who's sending it, and then a conversation. It doesn't matter that Nate can see her username. ]
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Do you see where I'm going with this?
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I'm used to knowing people. You know: who they are, what they like, why so-and-so can't sit next to such-and-such.
I want the crash course. Just so I know what I'm working with.
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are we talking basic facts for personal reference? because i can supply those. might not be able to provide you with a list on who's got a crush on who.
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all right, you got something to take notes with? we can meet somewhere and i'll give you the skinny.
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[ Which is Midge speak for an hour. Can't help it if she's always late. ]
I'm one of the best note takers in New York. Nothing can get by me. I don't even resort to shorthand, either.
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[ He's gathered this much about her thus far. ]
i'll bring you a notebook, because they're a little hard to come by these days.
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Is it pink?
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and i feel like that's a story better told in person.
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text > action;
[ Sure enough, it takes Midge an hour and 10 minutes to appear at the Red Wings. She looks great (she always looks great), and as she opens the door to spot Nate she gives a half-wave. ]
action;
She looks great (since when does she not?) and Nate nods in acknowledgement, hovering by one of the many poured-concrete columns supporting their strange little sports bar. When she makes her way over to him he gestures at the table in the corner, pressed up against the storefront windows, directly adjacent to the door, as if indicating that this is where he intends to seat them.
Nate lets it hang in the air just long enough to be funny before grinning. ]
I'm messing with you, it's over here. [ A quick head-jerk off to his left, to an empty table closer to the bar. ] You look nice.
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Thank you. You look dashing--is that a new henley?
[ Is she joking? Is she not? Who knows. She smoothes her dress out to properly sit down. ]
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[ He says airily, wearing the same shirt she saw him in last week when he suggested they try to locate a deli in New Amsterdam, of all godforsaken places. Nate settles at the next seat over instead of across the table, reaching for something in his bag and withdrawing a notebook, bound in blue leather.
He slides it toward her with a surreptitious smile. ]
Your ill-gotten goods, ma'am.
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You didn't.
[ He obviously did, and Midge's smile could split her face into two as she picks up the notebook, a small noise coming out of her mouth that can only be described as a squeal as she starts to leaf through it. ]
I thought paper was supposed to be sent to the museums. How the hell did you find this?!
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