[ 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?!
[ Oh, no. Unadulterated joy is adorable. Nate grins as she begins to shuffled through the pages - it's a blank one, fortunately - and in the process he slides a pencil across the table as well. He leans in on one elbow, careful to be reasonably surreptitious about it.
No sense alerting everyone in proximity to his extracurricular activities. ]
I may have...emancipated it from the private collection of a very affluent gentleman.
I've never had someone pilfer something from a very affluent gentleman for me before. A girl could get used to this. [ She looks back at the pages, running her hand over the blank sheets for a second time, slower, drinking it in before she exhales and looks over at the other. ]
Thank you, Nate. [ She means it. ] I owe you dinner, at the very least. And this round's on me. But first--
[ She opens her arms wide, brows arched. At least she's waiting for permission to touch Nate, even if it's a just a hug. ]
Pilfer, I like that. Makes it sound more respectable than petty theft.
[ It was probably more of a felony, if paper is really as expensive as people say it is these days. He trusts (hopes) she won't just go waving this thing around all over the place, attracting attention.
It takes him a beat to realize what she's angling for. Arms open and expression flirting with the idea of being imploring, and Nate's smile pulls at one side, understanding. He wouldn't, normally. Not in public, not at Red Wings, but a quick glance around tells him at least a few people are normal citizens and to that end he holds up a finger and clears his throat.
Nate proceeds to responsibly - uncomfortably - button up his henley, making a show of it, before leaning across the corner of the table and enveloping her in a hug. ]
[ Midge rolls her eyes, although it's lovingly -- she really has to explain that henleys look like long underwear to her one day -- and practically leaps into his arms for a quick, non skin-to-skin hug.
Take that, neural empathy what-ever-it-is. Midge Maisel can still hug people. She pulls away, winking. ]
Now. I can't believe I'm saying this, but enough about me--let's talk about you and the people you know.
[ It's honestly nice, to have this kind of frequent contact. You don't realize how much you miss something until it's well and truly out of your grasp, and he's spent months isolating himself physically out of personal safety.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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?!
no subject
No sense alerting everyone in proximity to his extracurricular activities. ]
I may have...emancipated it from the private collection of a very affluent gentleman.
no subject
Thank you, Nate. [ She means it. ] I owe you dinner, at the very least. And this round's on me. But first--
[ She opens her arms wide, brows arched. At least she's waiting for permission to touch Nate, even if it's a just a hug. ]
no subject
[ It was probably more of a felony, if paper is really as expensive as people say it is these days. He trusts (hopes) she won't just go waving this thing around all over the place, attracting attention.
It takes him a beat to realize what she's angling for. Arms open and expression flirting with the idea of being imploring, and Nate's smile pulls at one side, understanding. He wouldn't, normally. Not in public, not at Red Wings, but a quick glance around tells him at least a few people are normal citizens and to that end he holds up a finger and clears his throat.
Nate proceeds to responsibly - uncomfortably - button up his henley, making a show of it, before leaning across the corner of the table and enveloping her in a hug. ]
no subject
Take that, neural empathy what-ever-it-is. Midge Maisel can still hug people. She pulls away, winking. ]
Now. I can't believe I'm saying this, but enough about me--let's talk about you and the people you know.
no subject
Midge isn't pushy about it, it's just there. ]
All right, all right. Where do you wanna start?