xp_logs | Log: Clarice and Sam

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Clarice asks Sam out on a date. Things are mildly awkward.

Knocking on the door to Sam's suite, Clarice waited nervously, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Go on a date with Sam, Jay had said. Well...it wasn't like she had anything else better to do....so why not? Oh, right, because he was SAM GUTHRIE and she was CLARICE FERGUSON. Oy. What was she thinking?! She was going to do this right though and that meant flowers. She didn't have a car but she was pretty sure he did. If not, she could port them. She had it all mapped out though; dinner, maybe some minigolf...nothing too outrageous. Just something very, very normal. Even if she was going to insist that she was the guy and therefore paying.

Sam wasn't sure what to expect. Taking Jay's advice into account, he made sure not to wear a hat or anything other than his usual work boots. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Clarice and the flowers, smiling. "Well, thank you." He took them more than a little awkwardly. "I will... buy a vase for these... after this date... we're about to have... go on... right now." He certainly wasn't the kind of guy to have one on hand.

After finding an appropriate place for the bouquet, Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess we ought to get going." He wasn't positive where it was they were going, though. He stepped out of his room and looked down to his date.

Laughing, Clarice grinned at him, "They're silk," she replied, unfazed by his lack of vase. She hadn't expected him to have one. Taking his arm, she led him through the school, "You want to drive or port?" she asked. It would change their destination depending on his answer, but not significantly. She hadn't made reservations at bistro in Italy or anything.

"Usually I'm the one offering to fly." Sam said with a slight, uncertain laugh. "I'm not picky." He truly wasn't; he was going out as requested and that was the first step. He wasn't ready to give up the comfort of following along for the moment.

"No way, too cold," Clarice objected. "Besides, I'm the guy here. I asked you out. I picked you up. I brought you flowers. Therefore, you're the girl. We can port," she decided, opening one as they got to the front door. No need for heavy coats and things this way!

"I'm not sure that's so much a male and female dynamic..." Sam decided that a date wasn't the time for academics. Instead he simply followed Clarice through her portal, still having no idea where they were going.

"It is," she assured him as they emerged on the other side outside of an Italian restaurant. Everyone liked Italian! "It has to do with gender roles and identity," she added as they walked in. It was cold out and there was snow on the ground. "Two please," she said to the hostess who only boggled a little as she led them to a table towards the back. "Besides, didn't you get the memo about me liking girls? Therefore, you're the girl."

"If you like girls, yet we're out, then I figure this wasn't a spontaneous asking?" Sam stopped at the table when they arrived. His chair was still pushed in, after all. "Maybe this has to do with my brother's instructions to me recently?"

Pulling his chair out so he could sit, Clarice giggled unable to stop it before it escaped her lips, "I like boys too goof. Please," she waved the whole girl thing aside with a hand before sitting across the table, "But I am still the guy here. So for tonight, you're still the girl. We can renegotiate genders later."

Sam nodded, "If you prefer." He sat when she pulled out his chair. "Didn't answer my question about why we're here, though. I didn't figure you for having any sort of interest in me. Or anyone else having an interest in me, for that matter... but that's neither here nor there."

"Hey, I was busy," Clarice protested, not willing to admit that it was Jay who had set this whole thing in motion, "School, the team, it's not easy to juggle it all. But, I'm on break now, so I have more time. I felt bad how things have been going, so I'm trying to make it up to you now. Better late than never, right?" She'd been lost in the college bubble for a while anyways. It was good to get out and be social again.

"Right." Sam nodded in agreement, he didn't press the question again. He wasn't that confrontational. He would just ask Jay later, who had specifically mentioned him needing a girlfriend. "I'm at your disposal."

"Kinky," Clarice didn't push that line of comment further though as she surveyed the menu. Ordering herself a drink when the waiter came by with fresh bread soaked in butter and herbs. "So I probably shouldn't ask what's new with you then, should I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Sam wasn't sure what she was referencing. He knew things generally weren't new with him. That was part of the complaint that probably led to dinner.

"Because you'd only say 'nothing what about you?'" Clarice deepened her voice and adopted a terrible southern accent in an imitation of Sam. She was from upstate New York originally and had lived the past six years in Westchester. She was not southern at all.

"I never claimed to be good at small talk. I hope my accent is at least better than you make it sound." Sam said with a laugh. "I've had ladies tell me it's very endearing... sometimes... but it doesn't usually come up."

"It happens," she shrugged, "accents I mean. You're from Kentucky so I guess it's normal. I don't think I have an accent, but I could be wrong," She didn't speak like a n'yawka, though she could put on that accent if she wanted for laughs. She was better at a New York accent than a southern at least. "I like it."

"Well thank you." Sam smiled at the compliment. Silence followed as he scanned his mind for another 'small talk' topic but came up lacking. "There's a big Italian community in New York... which you know... because you live here too... and brought me to an Italian restaurant."

"We're not in New York," she informed him with a smirk. She hadn't brought him to Italy, but they were still over 1000 miles from New York state or city. "See, it's always 5 o'clock somewhere in my world," she leaned over and pointed to the bottom of his menu. The address of the restaurant was at the bottom. They were in Chicago, Illinois.

Sam just laughed and shook his head. "At least you responded to my rambling instead of just looking at me like I'm having a seizure."

"I could do that too if it'd make you feel better?" she offered, though her tone was dubious."Anyways, neither of us is Italian. Unless you're hiding some salami in your chinos."

"I don't even know what chinos are, I'm ashamed to say. A food, maybe?" In retrospect, Sam should have known not to guess when he didn't know what something was. It couldn't help the situation.

Snerking, Clarice began laughing too hard to reply for a minute. She knew it was wrong to do so, especially since she was laughing at him, but that was just too funny!! Shaking her head as she got ahold of herself, she took a sip of her soda. "Chinos are pants. The kind you're wearing, specifically."

"These are just some dress pants Mama got me for Christmas." Sam looked down and back up. "But I'll take your word for it." He didn't take the laughing personally. At least, he tried not to.

"Chino just refers to the fabric type, Sam," she reassured him, "They're dressier than jeans, not as dressy as suit pants, but usually similar in cut. They used to be khaki coloured, but now you can get them in a whole array of them," fashion was something Clarice knew, "Most guys own several pairs. That's a good thing."

Sam nodded as he listened. He wasn't exactly interested in fashion but he did hold an interest in useless facts and also history and culture. "I'm sure I'll remember that now that I'll think of salami every time I hear about dress pants."

"There you go!" she agreed as the waiter came back to take their orders for dinner. Quickly, Clarice ordered ravioli. She hadn't really looked at the menu. "So um..." she paused, "Seen any movies recently?"

Following her lead, Sam ordered the same. He laughed when she asked her question and shook his head. "Nothing but history documentaries. I'm not very exciting at all."

"History can be interesting. It depends on what you are studying and how boring the teacher is," she teased, she'd never had Sam as a teacher. That was a good thing though, it would be weird to date your teacher or even a teacher you'd had in the past. Some girls were into that, but not so much her. "I took a class on diseases last semester and we went into the history of the bubonic plague, where the idea for quarantine came from, causes of death from the 18th century, it was neat. Apparently back then you could die of planets. Who knew? Jupiter just fell and crushed someone, I guess."

"The Pope spent the plague surrounded by bonfires to keep out disease." Sam nodded, throwing the information out casually. "It was a very interesting time, I think." It had never occurred to him that some women liked dating teachers and it didn't with Clarice, either. His position was part of who he was and not a tool to be used. "I've been thinking about doing a study on mutants and a morality quiz that was published quite a few years back..." It was said off-handedly. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet.

"Yeah?" Clarice leaned forward interested, "What quiz? What kind of study?" she'd had no idea that Sam had thought about these things, it was great to get to know him better. She had cultivated a reputation of being flighty and silly, but she had actually dived into her college classes with gusto and for the most part, her grades were pretty good this semester. They tended to fluctuate with being irradiated, missions and the like.

"The original study was meant to measure who actively people would participate in things they feel are morally correct..." Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. He was much better at writing these kinds of things. "With mutants having different... abilities... to affect the world. I wanted to see how that might change that study."

"That's a good question," Clarice agreed. She gestured to the restaurant around them, people were looking at them, most fairly covertly, though some more openly, "You can see just right here what just me being in a public place does," she had long ago learned to ignore the stares, just to tune them out and not notice unless someone was being particularly offensive or asked her a question. She always answered questions if she was asked though, "No one would look twice at you otherwise. And I can promise, if I were a normal looking girl with brown hair and a peaches and cream complexion," like she had been born, "we wouldn't get these looks. The tattoos at this point don't even matter once you're purple."

"You'll want to be involved, then?" Sam smiled happily. He was afraid that most people wouldn't be very interested. "It's only a two question survey."

Only two questions? "Sure," she answered easily, "I don't go back to school for a little while longer. Why not?"

-----

"I'm much better at pool." Sam said idly as he carried around the blue golf ball and matching putter. "I can't even recall the last time I was out to putt putt."

"I can beat your ass in pool," Clarice brandished her puttered and little purple ball. "Which is why we putt putt," well, she actually did not play pool all that often, but with her powers turning physics into a whimpering crying little school boy? She wasn't bad either. Not a pool shark, but this was more sporting. "Remember? I put Sir Isaac over a barrel for fun."

"You wouldn't have a chance in pool." Sam shook his head, taking the liberty of setting up first while Clarice had to wait. He was still the girl, after all. "You might have your portals but I bounce off things. I've been playing since a young one, too."

"Like a rubber ball I go bouncing back to you..." she sang slightly off key. Clarice could dance, but she was not a singer. "Just hit your ball through the windmill," there was no windmill on this hole though. That didn't matter to her.

Sam didn't have a reason to resist. He took his shot then stepped back so that Clarice could take her turn. "I hope this whole outing ain't going to be you rushing me. You have something else planned?"

"I do. Gotta get you home by 10pm. Your mama will skin my hide with her shotgun if I don't treat you right," she joked, taking her turn. "Or Jay. Someone. But if you play your cards right, I might just give you a good night kiss later."

"I thought women got to decide at the beginning of the date how far things were getting. That's what I was always told." Sam wasn't an overly competitive person most times and he didn't seem to focus too much on the game. He was more interested in talking.

"Only sucktastic girls," Clarice had little tolerance for girls like that.

"Well the only time I play the girl and I don't get all the benefits I've been told I ought to get. That just ain't right." Sam always felt and noticed that, in the realm of dating, women seemed to have much more control than he did when it came to decisions.

Clarice shrugged, "Life's not fair?" she replied. "But fine. You get to to decide. Girls. So fickle," she hit her ball and missed the hole for her golfball. She wasn't very good at this, despite her physics gymnastics.

"Well now I just don't know what to do with myself." Sam laughed softly, not exceptional at miniature golf himself and not even concerned enough to try keeping score.

"You have until the end of the date to figure it out, unless you feel like getting molested right now," she wasn't serious about the offer to grope him right then and there. There was a family with children behind them and she did have at least a vestigial sense of propriety.

"I thought being in control of all that would feel a little different." Sam laughed softly and took his swing.

"Yeah, not really," Clarice agreed. "It's like...control, but not. Anyways. Let's go tackle the windmill."