Longshot and Cecilia's Date (Backdated)

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Cecilia meets Longshot for the date he purchased to raise money for X-Corps (you may vaguely remember this auction), and nothing bad happens.


Leaving the necklace at home had probably been a mistake.

When Cecilia had been standing in front of the mirror, having her parents' wedding rings dangling around her neck seemed like a bad idea. This was a date, even if it was being conducted more like a finance deal, and marriage symbols seemed like they were a taboo. Besides, Coco Chanel told said to take off the last thing you'd put on, and that was advice Cecilia figured she'd heed on an occasion like this one.

But now, as the car pulled up to a place she'd spent her entire New York life avoiding, she felt a little naked without them. When Cecilia had started wearing her father's ring in high school, her mother had jokingly called it a protective amulet. Maybe at some point that had become true, because she suddenly felt weirdly exposed.

Not that there was anything she could do about it now. "Gracias," Cecilia nodded as the Dominican driver opened the car door. "Pues? Como me queda?" He whistled and gave her a thumbs up, and she couldn't help but grin as she rolled her eyes. Necklace or not, maybe she was ready for the paparazzi after all. (It seemed they had yet to arrive. Although it wasn't like she was supposed to know they were coming.)

Casting a quick glance in the side mirror, Cecilia stepped out of the car, flicking the tracker Wade had given her onto the sidewalk. She smoothed down her dress as she strode toward Serendipity 3 where, presumably, the benevolent survivalist who bought her was waiting.

Although finding him might be a challenge as east 60th was bustling with tourists and flashing cameras. Things quieted down only a little as Cecilia entered the small restaurant, and a name check with the waiter moved her quickly and efficiently past the waiting line, colorful decorations, and brain frozen patrons to a corner table on the second floor.

Arthur was in the middle of a photo op of his own when the two approached: a small boy was grinning furiously at his mother's phone. Arthur, himself, was dressed rather casually: tight black shirt matched with jeans, a green, scarf, and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Click. Arthur gently ruffled the boy's hair. "Now, remember. Follow Akela. Go with the pack." The child gave him a Cub Scout salute.

The two's attention drifted to the newcomers. The mother shuffled the boy away as Arthur stood back up. His smile almost "pinged." "Doctor. You are extremely punctual."

"Well, sure." Cecilia smiled, her eyes following the mother and son as they traveled across the restaurant. She looked back at Arthur, being sure to keep her gaze away from his right hand as instructed. "The car you sent arrived right on time, so..." She shrugged. "Here I am."

She felt a little awkward, and she was probably being pretty awkward, but she couldn't help it. Even if his agency had arranged this entire thing, and it was far from a real date, he was still a very handsome man, and a famous one at that. And here she was, standing in front of him in a knee-length yellow-and-pink floral dress, trying to be nonchalant. There was no reason for her to be this nervous, but of course, she was. "And please," she added after a beat, "no 'Doctor.' Cecilia."

"My mother Occupational Therapist. She'd have my head if I didn't at least try to show some deference." Arthur laughed softly in a low vibrato and motioned toward the seats. "Come. Sit."

Cecilia obliged and then took a chance to glance around the garishly-decorated space. It was pretty much everything she'd expected, and she was dying to know just how decor like this could be reconciled with a thousand-dollar sundae. Though maybe that question answered itself.

"So." She pushed one of her bangles up her right arm. "How was your Fourth?" She knew from his IMDB page that he hadn't been born stateside, but he lived here now, so Cecilia had to assume he'd celebrated in some way.

Arthur sat as well, folding his hands on the table over the heavily illustrated menu. His accent was testament enough to lack of an American upbringing, but there was nothing derisive or unpatriotic in his tone. "It went well. There were memorial events and fundraisers in the morning -- Do you know they still do Pancake Breakfasts? -- and I caught some of the Macy's Fireworks over the Hudson."

"My agent informed me that you live at a school? Did you all celebrate there, or did you head into the city proper?"

Cecilia nodded. "Some of the other staff were gone, but I stayed out in Westchester. Some grilling, some pickup soccer, and some fireworks. All very pleasant and suburban. Like a Norman Rockwell work with an x-gene."

Realizing she probably shouldn't talk so openly about her mutation in a room full of bridge-and-tunnel types, she changed the subject. "And I didn't know they ever did pancake breakfasts, if we're being honest. Not much cause for that where I'm from. But I can't say I'm surprised - nothing gets America excited more than stuffing their face for a cause."

"X-Gene? I don't follow," this was matched with a puzzled look as if he had a thought he couldn't quite place, "But I can assure you that everyone in the world enjoys stuffing their face for a cause." He glanced regretfully down at the menu. "Although likely not with one thousand dollar sundaes or drinks made popular by bad romantic comedies."

"Oh my God," she grinned, "but isn't that movie just terrible?" Much like the menu she was no scanning in front of her. His agent did not have good taste in dining, that was for sure. "You weren't in that one, were you? I'd hate to think I just insulted you in some way."

"What was that? 2000? Nah, I pretty green and doing television then. Not that the quality was much better." Cecilia's opinion of the menu was plain on her face, and Arthur smiled sympathetically. "Speaking of terrible..." He quirked his eyebrows conspiratorially and traced a circle with one finger over his own menu, "I am not particularly in the mood for mounds of sugar and dessert. You?"

"Oh, I..." Cecilia looked up at him, realizing she'd never decided whether to be herself or some generally agreeable date version of herself. "No," she said after a beat, smirking and trying to look as conspiratorial as he did. "This place is, you know," she waved a hand at their surrounding. "It's fine, just... a thousand-dollar sundae?"

He leaned in closer to whisper, "There's nothing keeping us here, you know. There's a city of culinary possibilities out there."

"So I've heard." Cecilia crossed her arms, studying him for a second. He really was quite charming. "How adventurous are you?"

"Well. I'm not sure if you've heard, but I happen to star in a television show where I spend weeks foraging for food weeks from civilization."

"Oh, yeah?" She teased. "Is that where I know you from?"

"A confession." He held a hand mockingly over his heart. "I would rather ingest raw honey ants and Witchetty grubs than eat at IHOP. So. Standards."

"Oh, an IHOP detractor. That just scored you some serious points." Cecilia sipped from the glass of water that had been placed to her right. "I know a place that's the opposite of this." The disdain in her voice was a little clearer now. "But you have to trust me." She smiled slyly. "And you can't tell your agent."

"I find it is healthy for our relationship to keep her guessing. I'm paying her for something, correct? Plus, you have a trustworthy face."

"Not the compliment I was hoping for, but I'll take it." This was turning into an actual date, which Cecilia hadn't been prepared for. "I have a plan."

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Fair warning: I have a bad habit of needing to blunder through all possible compliments until I hit the right one. Your charm? Your wit? Oh too much to cover." The lopsided grin deepened. "Lead and I'll follow. Just promise me trouble."

Cecilia grinned, now blushing somewhat. "Trouble can be arranged." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. As they made their way back to the restaurant, she flashed an apologetic smile at the waiter and tried to ignore the whispers of the one or two folks that seemed to recognize a celebrity-of-sorts in their midst.

Once they'd made it to the street, she spun her head around looking for her driver. Unable to find him, she turned over her shoulder to Arthur and smiled. "Cab okay?"

The other man smiled. A space was growing slowly around the two of them in the crowd as if the crowd were respecting the couple's personal space. Odd, that. Arthur scanned the street hopefully. "Taking a real taxi in New York would be delightful!"

Cecilia had to grin at his enthusiasm. Celebrity with a possibly questionable background or not, he was pretty cute when he smiled. "Good." She stepped into the street and stuck her hand out with the practiced ease of a local (though, truth be told, her New York had always been one of subways and buses), grabbing the first free car that passed by.

***
"Y dos cervezas," Cecilia nodded, handing both her and Arthur's menu to the waiter, who glanced between her and Arthur and simply shook his head. "Que? Estamos bien. Vaya." She rolled her eyes apologetically to her date, watching the waiter go.

There wasn't much ambiance at the Dominican restaurant in the Bronx to which she'd directed their reluctant cab driver, and she was certainly a little dressed up for the neighborhood, but at least Cecilia felt in her element again. As she glanced at the holes in the plastic table cloth, then looked at Arthur, she had to give him credit. He was certainly a sport. Especially since he'd let her order for them both in Spanish.

"Hope you're okay with goat," she smiled.

Arthur was still delighted. He gave each stranger a knowing smile as they passed, taking in every detail of the same place and his company. He sighed contentedly. "I have had worse. It is -- if you don't mind me sharing -- quite funny you ask that. I go for weeks without proper nutrition in the woods or arctic or Patagonia or what have you and as soon as I return home my agency dresses me up and sends me to galas and thousand dollar ice cream parlors and black tie events. At these places everyone apologizes for the poor accommodations." He laughed good naturedly in punctuation and leaned back in his chair.

"Really? Hope you don't think it's bad form that I didn't apologize, then." Cecilia shrugged to indicate that she wasn't really concerned one way or the other. "I've got a confession to make, actually. I watched 2 or 3 episodes of your show to prepare myself, just in case you quizzed me on the best way to find shelter in the rainforest or something." Now she looked a little more apologetic. "Can't say I learned much, but I'm a city girl, and I try to keep myself out of those situations." Unless she was helping tsunami victims on an island somewhere, but that was a whole other thing.

"Oh, really?" He flashed a very self satisfied grin. "You would have been better watching my first series. I had an episode where I dressed a feral goat in the Scottish highlands." This was delivered casually, like he was sharing the weather.

Cecilia laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't — there are feral goats? Those exist?" She shook her head. "How do you get in those situations? Like, who sits down and says 'Arthur, we're sending you to Vanuatu with a container of dry ice, three mothballs and a tuning fork'?"

"We," and he considered this carefully, "have whiteboarding sessions. But really: it used to be about looking at stories of human catastrophe or stories of survival and emulating with the intent to educate."

"Used to be?" Cecilia flashed a smile at their waiter as he plopped two bottles of beer at the table. He stared at Arthur for a second more before returning to chatter excitedly in Spanish to his colleagues. "So what about now?" She couldn't tell if he was weary of his trade, or cynical about what it had become, or both. Regardless, she appreciated that he seemed to have a little critical distance from what he did.

He shrugged. "My show was a web series at first, but each new iteration and season has gotten more and more wild since I went Cable. It is still about pushing limits and exploring the limits of survival, just with the unfortunate backwash of corporate sponsorship." The man took a long drink. "Tell me about your exciting life instead. That must be some school to need a full-time doctor."

Cecilia laughed. "It is some school, but that's not really my full-time duty. I split my time between the school and an associated non-profit. I sort of — I kind of fell into it." She took a sip of her beer. "It all feels very temporary, but up until very recently, I was working in Honduras with Doctors without Borders. They decided to evacuate us, and this was where I happened to end up." She shrugged, trying to indicate her neutrality about the whole thing.

"It's been a nice readjustment to life in the states, but I'm starting to look for the right opportunity to jump back into real medicine, as it were." Did that sound too cutthroat? She hadn't meant to come off so intense though, then again, that's more or less who she was.

Arthur raised an eyebrow over-dramatically as his eyes moved between his date and the the knife at her place-setting. "I am in complete support of this as long as this does not involve 'stabbing celebrities' as a means of creating your own opportunities."

Cecilia gave an exaggerated pout. "Well, you're just no fun." She smiled. "No, I only use my deft hands for good. When I use them at all these days, which, admittedly, is not much." They were silent for a moment before she let out a nervous laugh. "God, I sound ridiculous. Sorry."

He laughed good naturedly once again, and this was matched with a reassuring smile. "Being bored is one of the worst things I can imagine, but I am not a good influence here. I have thrill issues. Yet, and I solemnly swear this as someone who knows something about grabbing life and riding it like a you're in a ridiculous rodeo spoof, it doesn't matter if it is ambition or adrenaline that moves you. You just have to keep moving."

Cecilia blinked, a blank look on her face briefly before an approving smile replaced it. "You know, that is — I couldn't have said that better myself. That's been kind of my ethos for a while, honestly. Although my adventures are nowhere near as exciting as yours." Actually, her movement was probably more about distraction then thrill, but he didn't need to know that. "So, I gotta ask - craziest thing you've ever done?" She grabbed her beer. "Besides flying into a tsunami, I mean."

"I.." but the brief flash of confusion about the tsunami left as soon as it had occurred, "Well, that is an unfair question. I make a living off crazy."

"So do I, in a way. But surely something must measure as, like, exceptionally crazy." She placed her beer back on the table. "What's the highlight on the clip show?"

His eyes grew downright wistful. "Well, things were a bit more exciting before first started shooting webisodes. I was in the Siula Grande with my pal Rick -- standard one camera setup, but this is before I started going alone --and we were caught in a snowstorm. We roped ourselves together and were working a spotty traverse when I got knocked off the edge. I slammed against the face hard, breaking my leg in three places. I'd never felt closer to death hanging in midair off that ledge."

Cecilia stared at him a little incredulously. "Wow. That's — wow." That made some of the X-Men's adventures look mild (or the ones that she knew about anyway, which were probably on the tamer side). "That's crazy," she finally managed. "Amazing that you got through that." She shook her head. "You must have some great survival instincts. Or maybe fate's just on your side."

Arthur shrugged. "Bit of both, likely. I had the nickname 'Longshot' long before I got into television. In terms of that trip, I had to convince Rick to cut the bind and let me go. I was lucky enough to fall onto a ledge, and I used what was left of the rope to rappel my way down. Of course," and his eyes left the memory of that peak and settled back on Cecilia's, "I've never been lucky enough to have a doctor like you."

That was exactly the kind of line Cecilia would have ordinarily found cheesy, but coming from Arthur, it didn't sound so bad. Unable to think of a good retort, she smiled and tried not to look too embarrassed. "Can't say I've heard that one before," she finally replied, which was true. "But I like the way it sounds."

"Well then. That delights me," he added with a smile that went all the way to his eyes. "But now it your turn. Tell me all about your exciting adventures looking for real medicine."

"Well, they hardly compare to yours," Cecilia admitted, "but I'm sure I can regale you with tales of job searches, and my disturbing need to stitch together someone's small intestine. Although..." She caught the waiter moving toward them out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe you've been spared." She smiled. "Medical talk's not table talk, I'm told."

Their server placed two plates of goat stew, rice and beans on the table. "Gracias," Cecilia looked up at him, amused to find his attention focused on Arthur. After a few seconds, he looked to Cecilia excitedly.

"Él me da un autógrafo?"

"Ay, pana, en serio? Qué va!" Despite her mildly frustrated tone, Cecilia grinned. Her eyebrows raised, she looked back to her date. "Care to sign something for this fine fellow? Bet you anything we get a free meal out of it."

"Por supuesto," Arthur supplied with a smile that practically sang at being recognized officially. It didn't take long for him to turn back on the shining charm from earlier in the evening -- the waiter's request was met some more idle banter that sang and a few autographs for his family -- and the food was delivered shortly thereafter, peppering the conversation with pauses for tortilla-nibbling.