xp_logs | Garrison and Adrienne

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A slight change of pace from beer and the ballgame at Harry's as Garrison and Adrienne have a meal at a French restaurant and discuss dating.

Kane had secured a lot of points on Adrienne's dating scorecard for booking a table at Rafael's- or, he would have, if she'd been keeping a scorecard. She knew this was a date which warranted keeping score, but it didn't really feel like a date, it felt like another one of dozens of evenings she'd spent watching the game at Harry's with Kane. Only this time there was no game and they weren't at Harry's. And she was wearing a cocktail dress. And Kane wasn't wearing one of his usual work suits. And the food was French. But everything else seemed the same.

"I still say you're delusional," she shrugged, sipping at her wine as the waiter cleared their plates. "There's no way Bay's coming to Toronto. Not even the slightest chance. I'm willing to break into his house and read all his stuff just to prove it to you, and I'm sure there's no uncertainty in the precognition on that topic whatsoever. Should we be talking like we're on a first date?" she asked suddenly. "I'm still new at this whole 'dating' thing. Umm... what's your favourite movie?"

Garrison gave her what had become a usual pained look when she indulged in her perchant for piling up topics in conversation when nervous. It was kind of endearing, but occasionally made him feel like he needed a scorecard to follow the thread. Still, other than a spot of linguistic gymnastics, things had only drifted into ackward territory a few times, and Duncan's suggestion of Rafael's had proved effective. He didn't need to mention that the owner owed a rather large debt to the FBI thanks to an investigation last year that had bagged eight members of the Solatso family, and as a result, freed him from an oppressive protection racket in the process.

"If they increase payroll, they'll go hard after Bay. He's a natural four hitter, a draw as a marquee Canadian player, and Seattle isn't going to push hard for him. I don't see Boston breaking the bank for him, considering other market options." He wiped his mouth with his napkin. As a child, Garrison had been in hundreds of formal dinners, and his grandparents had ruthlessly enforced an old school West Toronto decorum at their table, which all but made instinctive the intricacies of fine dining. " For the rest, would you relax? Just because this is a date doesn't mean we're suddenly two strangers trying to piece through the social kabuki of dating, eh. So just be yourself, unless you'd like to dial back the Bosox homorism and face reality, that is. Oh, and my favourite movie is Hard Core Logo."

"That sounds like a porno flick," she pointed out with a grin, then blew out a nervous breath. "Relax. Right. It should be easy to set aside the social whatever-you-said of dating, since I still don't actually know what to do on a date." At least being herself, without the businesswoman mask, was easy when she was around Kane. "It still sounds like a porno, or a marketing company trying too hard. But whatever it is I'm sure it's no Dawn of the Dead. The original."

"Not to diss George Romaro, but zombies verses the scope of Canadian music, especially with Hugh Dillon in the lead role? Just no contest there." Garrison said affiably, picking up his wine glass and swirling the contents slightly. "However, I do support the fact you've gone beyond the usual safe choices of favourite films. Hearing people wax rapsodic about 'Casablanca' or 'Gone with the Wind' for the twentieth time gets a little dull, or worse, they choose some really pretentious foreign film and gush about how you have to see it in the original Polish without subtitles to really get the genius."

"I love horror movies, the more ridiculous the better. There's nothing better than watching a werewolf or a zombie tear the limbs off some annoying teenager or fat man," Adrienne grinned. "The scope of Canadian music, huh? Okay, that brings up another question: favourite song?"

"You have some serious issues going on, you know." He observed, setting his glass back down.

"And of course you'd hit me with that question right in the middle of a transition. I mean, a year ago, I could have easily said that the Tragically Hip's 'Twist My Arm' was my favourite, but now that's a little bit of a touchy memory." Kane commented wryly.

"I think as a sign of aging maturity and cynicism, I'm going to go with a little Cohen. Everybody Knows, I think. You?"

"Don't laugh," Adrienne commanded, pointing a finger at him and wincing a little. "Both Sides Now. Joni Mitchell. I only know a few Cohen songs," she admitted. "Are you springing for dessert tonight, Slick?" she inquired as the waiter approached with dessert menus.

"Sure Joni. Go nuts." Garrison half hid his smile behind the menu, eyes flicking through the possibilities. Nothing had exploded, neither had been kidnapped by supervillains, and his father hadn't shown up. It was a somewhat atypical date for two inhabitants of the mansion.

"Are you calling me Joni because I called you Slick?" she inquired, glaring at him for form after the waiter had left with the order. "Would you rather I go back to 'Boy Scout?' Not that I would," she added, wrinkling her nose, "it's a bit odd calling a man you're on a date with a boy scout. The whole 'boy' thing just sounds a little... pervy when I say it out loud on a date. Not that we're going to do anything pervy, I mean, it's just... it doesn't fit anymore?" That probably made no sense. She needed more wine.

"It doesn't fit anymore? Has it been that long that there's a specific physical repercussion from your chastity? You have consulted a medical professional, right?" Kane said, absolutely straight faced.

"Yes, I have, in fact! She says the rash is supposed to clear up really soon, or so I've been assured," she answered in her own deadpan, then put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands to focus on Kane. "There's only one physical repercussion from my chastity," she intoned throatily, adding a growl and an eye-waggle to the performance.

"Nerve damage in the eyebrow region? That's harsh."

Adrienne let out a bark of laughter. "You know, something must be wrong with me for the whole goofball schtick to seem so appealing in a man."

"The problem, Ms Frost, is that you've never been out with a guy like me. After your varied existance as a trust fund baby, a high end model, and then a fashinista business maven, you're used to seeing the same kinds of guys; business types, rich heirs, politicians, movie stars. You know, successful people. Where as I, from my lowly roots in West Toronto and boring Kraft Dinner and President's Choice upbringing, represent exactly the kind of middle-class oiks that your bodyguards and bouncers used to shield you from." Kane's look was challenging, even over the amusement in his eyes. "Obviously, your tastes really run to the rough end of town, eh. It's like that Billy Joel song."

"I have no idea what song you're talking about," she answered with a smile, "but your theory makes sense, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it before. I mean, it wasn't as if I suddenly woke up one day after all the years of celibacy and went 'hey, I'm sick of no-sex, and the 'successful'-" she made air quotations with her fingers "-guys aren't working out so I'm going to try guys from the rough end of town.' I mean, I'm not trying to use you. I wouldn't... I would never..." she trailed off, blushing, and nearly cheered when the waiter returned with the dessert.

When the waiter was out of earshot, she frowned at Kane. "And I think you're selling yourself short calling the other guys successful. I mean, you know the Blue Jays!" she joked, though seriously it bothered her that Kane seemed to be playing down his own successes and thus his own merits, which she considered to be many, despite the fact he wasn't a rich heir or politician. Maybe because he wasn't a rich heir or politician.

"Believe me, there's nothing like knowing the Blue Jays to understand what a lack of success is." Garrison said dryly. "I also don't think you suddenly woke up and looked around for options. I mean, seriously, if that was the case, you totally missed a bunch of much easier opportunities than I represent. I'll likely make you watch Canadian programming and hockey training before moving any further. There might be a quiz involving Vancouver bands and the Leafs Stanley Cup winning team of '62. Standards must be upheld."

"Well, they fight pretty successfully," Adrienne joked, "and beating on Massholes is something even a Sox fan can appreciate." Grinning shyly at his use of the definitive future tense in 'I'll likely', she stared down at her dessert. "I don't have any aversion to trying new television shows or music, and I've been known to watch the Bruins on occasion. Dunno about the Leafs team of '62 but I could always touch the Stanley Cup and give you details on every championship game the thing was at. Does that mean you want to... try... being an option for me?" She sampled some of her creme brulee nervously before moving on to wave her fork at Kane's dessert. "Can I try that?"

"Being an option or being a cheesecake? I mean, I suppose you could combine them, but the laundry bills would be fairly high. It might requiring dry cleaning even."

Adrienne would have giggled, but she was equating his joking with stalling, not being an optimistic person when it came to relationships, and was thus too nervous to give the remark its due appreciation. Plus the whole 'being a cheesecake' idea made her think of eating cheesecake off of somebody which made her think of sex with Jake which wasn't where she wanted her mind to be. "Being an option and eating the cheesecake... off the plate," she clarified, trying to relax and giving him a smile. "I don't even like cheesecake, I just wanted to see if my taste for cheesecake changed with age along with my taste in men."

Kane pushed the dessert over to her. He didn't really have much interest in cheesecake himself. "I think that the sexual option is something we really don't need to worry about yet. I'm thinking more, 'is there going to be a second date or am I going to get a glass of wine poured over my head?' option is the one to worry about right now." He said, a touch kindly. Garrison was aware that Adrienne had some hangups about sex, and he was concerned she might be pushing herself too fast to prove she was past them. He didn't know whether or not they would end up being an item, but the last thing he wanted to do was help her rush into something she'd likely regret later, and poison their chances.

"I- I wasn't meaning sex," she said hurriedly, blushing again. "I wasn't thinking about sex. Well I mean I was, generally, yeah- my mind went to the gutter on the cheesecake thing, but it wasn't about you and I and sex, specifically." She tried the cheesecake and made a face, pushing it back towards him and continuing with her train of thought. "I... I'm over the no-more-celibacy thing now, and I don't want to get into anything with you just for sex." She knew he had no aversion to casual sex so hearing that he wasn't worrying about the sex option and instead thinking about a second date had her feeling a great deal more at ease. "I was just trying to find out are you leaning towards planning a second date or pouring a glass of wine over my head?" she asked with a wry smirk.

"It is an awfully nice wine. I suppose pouring it over your head would be a waste of good alcohol." The waiter hovered over to clear their plates, and the Canadian waited for him to leave before continuing. "So unless this one blows up in spectacular fashion on the drive home, I think we can consider another date. Assuming you're still interested, of course."

Adrienne polished off the last of her own wine and beamed at him happily. "Yup. Feelings are still there. Best to have another date and see if they go away next time, I guess," she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't really want them to go away at all. It was a little scary, having feelings for him that were different from anything she'd felt before, but it was definitely not unpleasant and she was determined to enjoy herself as things happened rather than obsessing over what might happen another day.

"Good, because I was thinking about roller derby for our next date. You know, women fighting on roller skates, bad disco music, nasty dirty-water hot dogs and stale nachos with that violently yellow jalapheno flavoured plastic. If you're good, I'll even spring for a large coke with that. High roller that I am..."

"Wait, do I get to be one of the women fighting on roller skates or am I just watching?"

Kane had secured a lot of points on Adrienne's dating scorecard for booking a table at Rafael's- or, he would have, if she'd been keeping a scorecard. She knew this was a date which warranted keeping score, but it didn't really feel like a date, it felt like another one of dozens of evenings she'd spent watching the game at Harry's with Kane. Only this time there was no game and they weren't at Harry's. And she was wearing a cocktail dress. And Kane wasn't wearing one of his usual work suits. And the food was French. But everything else seemed the same.

"I still say you're delusional," she shrugged, sipping at her wine as the waiter cleared their plates. "There's no way Bay's coming to Toronto. Not even the slightest chance. I'm willing to break into his house and read all his stuff just to prove it to you, and I'm sure there's no uncertainty in the precognition on that topic whatsoever. Should we be talking like we're on a first date?" she asked suddenly. "I'm still new at this whole 'dating' thing. Umm... what's your favourite movie?"
Garrison gave her what had become a usual pained look when she indulged in her perchant for piling up topics in conversation when nervous. It was kind of endearing, but occasionally made him feel like he needed a scorecard to follow the thread. Still, other than a spot of linguistic gymnastics, things had only drifted into ackward territory a few times, and Duncan's suggestion of Rafael's had proved effective. He didn't need to mention that the owner owed a rather large debt to the FBI thanks to an investigation last year that had bagged eight members of the Solatso family, and as a result, freed him from an oppressive protection racket in the process.

"If they increase payroll, they'll go hard after Bay. He's a natural four hitter, a draw as a marquee Canadian player, and Seattle isn't going to push hard for him. I don't see Boston breaking the bank for him, considering other market options." He wiped his mouth with his napkin. As a child, Garrison had been in hundreds of formal dinners, and his grandparents had ruthlessly enforced an old school West Toronto decorum at their table, which all but made instinctive the intricacies of fine dining. " For the rest, would you relax? Just because this is a date doesn't mean we're suddenly two strangers trying to piece through the social kabuki of dating, eh. So just be yourself, unless you'd like to dial back the Bosox homorism and face reality, that is. Oh, and my favourite movie is Hard Core Logo."

"That sounds like a porno flick," she pointed out with a grin, then blew out a nervous breath. "Relax. Right. It should be easy to set aside the social whatever-you-said of dating, since I still don't actually know what to do on a date." At least being herself, without the businesswoman mask, was easy when she was around Kane. "It still sounds like a porno, or a marketing company trying too hard. But whatever it is I'm sure it's no Dawn of the Dead. The original."

"Not to diss George Romaro, but zombies verses the scope of Canadian music, especially with Hugh Dillon in the lead role? Just no contest there." Garrison said affiably, picking up his wine glass and swirling the contents slightly. "However, I do support the fact you've gone beyond the usual safe choices of favourite films. Hearing people wax rapsodic about 'Casablanca' or 'Gone with the Wind' for the twentieth time gets a little dull, or worse, they choose some really pretentious foreign film and gush about how you have to see it in the original Polish without subtitles to really get the genius."

"I love horror movies, the more ridiculous the better. There's nothing better than watching a werewolf or a zombie tear the limbs off some annoying teenager or fat man," Adrienne grinned. "The scope of Canadian music, huh? Okay, that brings up another question: favourite song?"
"You have some serious issues going on, you know." He observed, setting his glass back down. "And of course you'd hit me with that question right in the middle of a transition. I mean, a year ago, I could have easily said that the Tragically Hip's 'Twist My Arm' was my favourite, but now that's a little bit of a touchy memory." Kane commented wryly.

"I think as a sign of aging maturity and cynicism, I'm going to go with a little Cohen. Everybody Knows, I think. You?"

"Don't laugh," Adrienne commanded, pointing a finger at him and wincing a little. "Both Sides Now. Joni Mitchell. I only know a few Cohen songs," she admitted. "Are you springing for dessert tonight, Slick?" she inquired as the waiter approached with dessert menus.
"Sure Joni. Go nuts." Garrison half hid his smile behind the menu, eyes flicking through the possibilities. Nothing had exploded, neither had been kidnapped by supervillains, and his father hadn't shown up. It was a somewhat atypical date for two inhabitants of the mansion.

"Are you calling me Joni because I called you Slick?" she inquired, glaring at him for form after the waiter had left with the order. "Would you rather I go back to 'Boy Scout?' Not that I would," she added, wrinkling her nose, "it's a bit odd calling a man you're on a date with a boy scout. The whole 'boy' thing just sounds a little... pervy when I say it out loud on a date. Not that we're going to do anything pervy, I mean, it's just... it doesn't fit anymore?" That probably made no sense. She needed more wine.

"It doesn't fit anymore? Has it been that long that there's a specific physical repercussion from your chastity? You have consulted a medical professional, right?" Kane said, absolutely straight faced.

"Yes, I have, in fact! She says the rash is supposed to clear up really soon, or so I've been assured," she answered in her own deadpan, then put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands to focus on Kane. "There's only one physical repercussion from my chastity," she intoned throatily, adding a growl and an eye-waggle to the performance.

"Nerve damage in the eyebrow region? That's harsh."

Adrienne let out a bark of laughter. "You know, something must be wrong with me for the whole goofball schtick to seem so appealing in a man."

"The problem, Ms Frost, is that you've never been out with a guy like me. After your varied existance as a trust fund baby, a high end model, and then a fashinista business maven, you're used to seeing the same kinds of guys; business types, rich heirs, politicians, movie stars. You know, successful people. Where as I, from my lowly roots in West Toronto and boring Kraft Dinner and President's Choice upbringing, represent exactly the kind of middle-class oiks that your bodyguards and bouncers used to shield you from." Kane's look was challenging, even over the amusement in his eyes. "Obviously, your tastes really run to the rough end of town, eh. It's like that Billy Joel song."

"I have no idea what song you're talking about," she answered with a smile, "but your theory makes sense, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it before. I mean, it wasn't as if I suddenly woke up one day after all the years of celibacy and went 'hey, I'm sick of no-sex, and the 'successful'-" she made air quotations with her fingers "-guys aren't working out so I'm going to try guys from the rough end of town.' I mean, I'm not trying to use you. I wouldn't... I would never..." she trailed off, blushing, and nearly cheered when the waiter returned with the dessert.

When the waiter was out of earshot, she frowned at Kane. "And I think you're selling yourself short calling the other guys successful. I mean, you know the Blue Jays!" she joked, though seriously it bothered her that Kane seemed to be playing down his own successes and thus his own merits, which she considered to be many, despite the fact he wasn't a rich heir or politician. Maybe because he wasn't a rich heir or politician.

"Believe me, there's nothing like knowing the Blue Jays to understand what a lack of success is." Garrison said dryly. "I also don't think you suddenly woke up and looked around for options. I mean, seriously, if that was the case, you totally missed a bunch of much easier opportunities than I represent. I'll likely make you watch Canadian programming and hockey training before moving any further. There might be a quiz involving Vancouver bands and the Leafs Stanley Cup winning team of '62. Standards must be upheld."

"Well, they fight pretty successfully," Adrienne joked, "and beating on Massholes is something even a Sox fan can appreciate." Grinning shyly at his use of the definitive future tense in 'I'll likely', she stared down at her dessert. "I don't have any aversion to trying new television shows or music, and I've been known to watch the Bruins on occasion. Dunno about the Leafs team of '62 but I could always touch the Stanley Cup and give you details on every championship game the thing was at. Does that mean you want to... try... being an option for me?" She sampled some of her creme brulee nervously before moving on to wave her fork at Kane's dessert. "Can I try that?"
"Being an option or being a cheesecake? I mean, I suppose you could combine them, but the laundry bills would be fairly high. It might requiring dry cleaning even."

Adrienne would have giggled, but she was equating his joking with stalling, not being an optimistic person when it came to relationships, and was thus too nervous to give the remark its due appreciation. Plus the whole 'being a cheesecake' idea made her think of eating cheesecake off of somebody which made her think of sex with Jake which wasn't where she wanted her mind to be. "Being an option and eating the cheesecake... off the plate," she clarified, trying to relax and giving him a smile. "I don't even like cheesecake, I just wanted to see if my taste for cheesecake changed with age along with my taste in men."

Kane pushed the dessert over to her. He didn't really have much interest in cheesecake himself. "I think that the sexual option is something we really don't need to worry about yet. I'm thinking more, 'is there going to be a second date or am I going to get a glass of wine poured over my head?' option is the one to worry about right now." He said, a touch kindly. Garrison was aware that Adrienne had some hangups about sex, and he was concerned she might be pushing herself too fast to prove she was past them. He didn't know whether or not they would end up being an item, but the last thing he wanted to do was help her rush into something she'd likely regret later, and poison their chances.

"I- I wasn't meaning sex," she said hurriedly, blushing again. "I wasn't thinking about sex. Well I mean I was, generally, yeah- my mind went to the gutter on the cheesecake thing, but it wasn't about you and I and sex, specifically." She tried the cheesecake and made a face, pushing it back towards him and continuing with her train of thought. "I... I'm over the no-more-celibacy thing now, and I don't want to get into anything with you just for sex." She knew he had no aversion to casual sex so hearing that he wasn't worrying about the sex option and instead thinking about a second date had her feeling a great deal more at ease. "I was just trying to find out are you leaning towards planning a second date or pouring a glass of wine over my head?" she asked with a wry smirk.

"It is an awfully nice wine. I suppose pouring it over your head would be a waste of good alcohol." The waiter hovered over to clear their plates, and the Canadian waited for him to leave before continuing. "So unless this one blows up in spectacular fashion on the drive home, I think we can consider another date. Assuming you're still interested, of course."

Adrienne polished off the last of her own wine and beamed at him happily. "Yup. Feelings are still there. Best to have another date and see if they go away next time, I guess," she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't really want them to go away at all. It was a little scary, having feelings for him that were different from anything she'd felt before, but it was definitely not unpleasant and she was determined to enjoy herself as things happened rather than obsessing over what might happen another day.

"Good, because I was thinking about roller derby for our next date. You know, women fighting on roller skates, bad disco music, nasty dirty-water hot dogs and stale nachos with that violently yellow jalapheno flavoured plastic. If you're good, I'll even spring for a large coke with that. High roller that I am..."

"Wait, do I get to be one of the women fighting on roller skates or am I just watching?"

"Are you sure you're not trying to make this sexual?"

"Now your brain's in the gutter!" she laughed. "Actually, I should tell you this before we have a second date because it may have serious bearing on how you feel about me." This confession was accompanied by a sheepish cringe. "I never learned how to skate."

"Well, we shall have to remedy that, won't we?" Kane said, parodying his father's soft brogue.

"Very sexy."

"Yeah, that's something to worry about."

"Even if it's not you I'm thinking about?"

"If you say you're thinking about my father, I'm going to kill myself at this table. With this spoon."

"Ew!" she cried out before she realized how that might seem rude. "No, I wasn't thinking of your father! My daddy issues may be plentiful but they don't include wanting to sleep with your father. You have serious cutlery-stabbing issues when it comes to your family, you know that, Slick?" she giggled.

"If you had my family, you would contemplate ending your life with a dessert fork just as regularly."

Adrienne sent him a skeptical look. "I'm a Frost, remember?"

"Doesn't that involve incalculable wealth and the best therapy money can buy?"

Shrugging, Adrienne wrinkled her nose. "I happen to hate therapists, with the exception of Sofia- and sometimes I think that's only because of her shoe collection- but yes, I suppose it does involve incalculable wealth. All that basically means, though, is I can buy more expensive dessert forks."

"More expensive everything, in fact. I have this image of the Frosts brushing their teeth with bottle water pulled from a virgin iceberg in the Antarctic, using gold handled brushes fitted with bristles made from rare Siberian tigers. Ordering a kobe beef burger made from a cow hand reared named Ed, topped with artisanal French cheeses and really expensive ketchup. Dijon ketchup, in fact!"

"The Siberian tiger we use for toothbrushes is named Flapjacks. And it would be kobe veggie beef burger made from soy hand reared," Adrienne corrected with a smirk. "Meat is murder, after all."

"Only if you happen to be a cow."