Sharon, Kevin: Lunch Date
Feb. 22nd, 2024 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsOnce again, Kevin demonstrates that he and Sharon have very different definitions of shapeshifting. At least his provide a decent wine selection.
The summons were different from normal. Usually, her meetings with Kevin were at a specific time negotiated weeks in advance, with a specific agenda. This time, he'd simply sent around a note telling her to meet him in the garage in semi-casual attire appropriate for somewhere nice; a test in and of itself for her, as he refused to specify further than that, and she knew he'd send her back if her selection wasn't correct. Once she reached the garage, it was Nora waiting for her again, dressed elegantly for the weather, if a touch provocatively with the leather jacket.
"Sharon." She said.
"Kevin Sydney," Sharon replied, wary. After frantically googling the phrase "semi-casual" -- something which had necessitated the further googling of cursed phrases like "informal", "casual," "casual dressy," and "business casual" before Sharon finally recoiled in exhaustion -- she'd wrenched open her closet door and surveilled the assorted pieces Felicia had approved some weeks ago. Unfortunately, having all the elements at her disposal did not tell her how to assemble them for the occasion. Sharon had agonized between the midi-length turtleneck sweater dress and the slit midi dress before gambling that the latter might read a little too bold for a lunch encounter and opted for the former. Besides, the sweater dress allowed for tall boots, and in this weather she was inclined to cover as much flesh as possible. She'd kept the makeup fresh but neutral, and, mindful of his notes during their last lesson, had incorporated a delicate gold-chained medallion piece to complete the look.
"You'll need these." She casually tossed over a box which turned out to contain a pair of diamond earrings, with a clasp instead of a hook so she could clip them to her earlobes. "Get in. I'd like to hit the city while traffic is still light."
Sharon slid into the passenger's seat of the car, contemplating the earrings.
"We are going where?" she asked as she fumbled a stud onto her ear and winced. The clasp was tight on an earlobe that had never experienced that sort of sensation before, and her placement seemed off somehow. Biting her lip in concentration, Sharon peered into the rearview mirror and tried for a better approximation of a traditional piercing.
"Children and cats don't get told where they are going. They get put into cars and taken places. So who is asking?" Nora said as she peeled out easily and headed for the highway.
Sharon narrowed her eyes. "This is another exercise in identity?" she asked suspiciously.
"Always. Shapeshifting is about two things: perception and identity, and it doesn't hold back with either. So whatever Sharon I get today defines the answers she gets." Nora said, with the astonishingly casual ruthlessness as usual.
The slit-pupiled eyes narrowed further, but Sharon nonetheless took a moment to consider.
"If we speak of onlooker's assumptions," Sharon said after a moment, "am too old and you too well-dressed for an au pair. Age gap is not impossible for sibling, but unusual. Am too old also to be taken for your natural daughter, though biologically is not impossible. Were I to see us I would assume perhaps aunt and niece. Physical resemblance is nonexistent, however, so assumption we are step-mother and step-daughter is more likely." She added, a little pointedly, "Step-mother and step-daughter on slightly acrimonious terms."
"Good. Let's see how you follow up." She said with a surprisingly bright sidewise smile. The rest of the trip went quietly, Kevin's playlist giving away his age as they ended up in Manhattan. He pulled in and ushered her from the car into Jean-Georges. As they reached the front desk, Nora mentioned a reservation under a name she'd never heard of, which seemed to suddenly pull two more servers to help them.
Sharon had heretofore been in precisely one restaurant: a deli in District X. Jean-Georges was not only on a different level, it occupied an entirely different plane of existence. The interior was bright, airy, and outfitted with pristine white furniture that struck immediate terror in the heart of anyone remotely unsure of their fine motor skills.
Sharon's tail, already coiled around one leg to keep it from scrutiny, tightened around her thigh.
"We are eating here?" she asked uncertainly.
"We are." Nora said as the waiter approached. "Ah, Alexy. It has been too long. I'd like a bottle of 1999 Louis Roederer Cristal and..." She paused and waved towards Sharon. "A glass for her as well. We're celebrating her big day." The server nodded and crept away like a feudal servant as Nora leaned in. "I've given you all the details you need. You need to see if you can mimic the person I've presented."
Sharon, less than a year removed from surviving on literal garbage, stared at Nora like the other woman was an oncoming truck.
"My big day," she repeated, trying to chisel something manageable from the prompt she'd been provided.
"Indeed. Something that earns you a lunch at a premiere Manhattan restaurant, but not off of the exclusive and significantly more expensive dinner menu. With a somewhat older woman with an undefined relationship who seems content to down the better part of a bottle of champagne at noon." Nora smiled over the immaculately laid table. "This, all of this, is merely surface. A show. A picture of perfect opulence and wealth. Now take twenty steps in the right direction and you're standing next to a hot dog cart on a busy intersection. That is what shapeshifting is; understanding and effortlessly moving through any world knowing that in twenty steps you could be in an entirely different one that needs an entirely different person."
"When I am cat vastly different impressions may be communicated through body language only. No complicated backstory is required to acquire food from a hot dog cart, only adorable rolling." Despite the complaints, Sharon tried to think. This could be either a trap or a test, but probably both.
"'Big day,'" she said slowly, "this implies uncommon occurrence. Birthday is unlikely. Lack of apparent attachment to dining partner, this leaves such a conclusion unsupported also." The girl glanced at the clawed hands she'd placed in her lap to restlessly knead at her sweater-dress. "I have no ring, so day cannot be to commemorate engagement. Is too late to celebrate spring semester of college. Ordering of champagne would indicate is not work relationship."
Sharon paused again, then nodded to herself.
"Is work," the girl declared. "I begin my first job. Obviously has been acquired through family connections, here represented by your presence, but illusion of meritocracy is important. Some suitably official position has been made for me. 'Director of Social Media', maybe, because is assumed all persons under thirty possess digital competence. I shall make vague Aesthetic posts to company Instagram while actual Marketing Director is held accountable for my errors. His name is Jeremy. Already he resents my presence."
Nora didn't say anything for a moment as the wine reached the table and was poured. Before the waiter was more than a foot away, Nora leaned in faux-conspiratorially. "So tell me all about Jeremy. He doesn't really ride an electric scooter to work, does he?"
Sharon, caught off-guard despite the fact she should have seen this coming, stumbled slightly in the presence of the waiter before rallying. "He walks into the office wearing a helmet still," she replied as champagne was poured into the glass before her. She added, in a burst of inspiration, "Wears knee pads also. For extra safety."
"Of course. Ugh, I'm willing to bet he's vegan too." Nora shook her head as he filled her glass and took it a touch too quickly before having a sip. "I swear, young men these days. Your father despairs..."
The waiter disappeared as she settled back. "Good."
Sharon preened. Who said social interactions weren't a thing you could win?
The summons were different from normal. Usually, her meetings with Kevin were at a specific time negotiated weeks in advance, with a specific agenda. This time, he'd simply sent around a note telling her to meet him in the garage in semi-casual attire appropriate for somewhere nice; a test in and of itself for her, as he refused to specify further than that, and she knew he'd send her back if her selection wasn't correct. Once she reached the garage, it was Nora waiting for her again, dressed elegantly for the weather, if a touch provocatively with the leather jacket.
"Sharon." She said.
"Kevin Sydney," Sharon replied, wary. After frantically googling the phrase "semi-casual" -- something which had necessitated the further googling of cursed phrases like "informal", "casual," "casual dressy," and "business casual" before Sharon finally recoiled in exhaustion -- she'd wrenched open her closet door and surveilled the assorted pieces Felicia had approved some weeks ago. Unfortunately, having all the elements at her disposal did not tell her how to assemble them for the occasion. Sharon had agonized between the midi-length turtleneck sweater dress and the slit midi dress before gambling that the latter might read a little too bold for a lunch encounter and opted for the former. Besides, the sweater dress allowed for tall boots, and in this weather she was inclined to cover as much flesh as possible. She'd kept the makeup fresh but neutral, and, mindful of his notes during their last lesson, had incorporated a delicate gold-chained medallion piece to complete the look.
"You'll need these." She casually tossed over a box which turned out to contain a pair of diamond earrings, with a clasp instead of a hook so she could clip them to her earlobes. "Get in. I'd like to hit the city while traffic is still light."
Sharon slid into the passenger's seat of the car, contemplating the earrings.
"We are going where?" she asked as she fumbled a stud onto her ear and winced. The clasp was tight on an earlobe that had never experienced that sort of sensation before, and her placement seemed off somehow. Biting her lip in concentration, Sharon peered into the rearview mirror and tried for a better approximation of a traditional piercing.
"Children and cats don't get told where they are going. They get put into cars and taken places. So who is asking?" Nora said as she peeled out easily and headed for the highway.
Sharon narrowed her eyes. "This is another exercise in identity?" she asked suspiciously.
"Always. Shapeshifting is about two things: perception and identity, and it doesn't hold back with either. So whatever Sharon I get today defines the answers she gets." Nora said, with the astonishingly casual ruthlessness as usual.
The slit-pupiled eyes narrowed further, but Sharon nonetheless took a moment to consider.
"If we speak of onlooker's assumptions," Sharon said after a moment, "am too old and you too well-dressed for an au pair. Age gap is not impossible for sibling, but unusual. Am too old also to be taken for your natural daughter, though biologically is not impossible. Were I to see us I would assume perhaps aunt and niece. Physical resemblance is nonexistent, however, so assumption we are step-mother and step-daughter is more likely." She added, a little pointedly, "Step-mother and step-daughter on slightly acrimonious terms."
"Good. Let's see how you follow up." She said with a surprisingly bright sidewise smile. The rest of the trip went quietly, Kevin's playlist giving away his age as they ended up in Manhattan. He pulled in and ushered her from the car into Jean-Georges. As they reached the front desk, Nora mentioned a reservation under a name she'd never heard of, which seemed to suddenly pull two more servers to help them.
Sharon had heretofore been in precisely one restaurant: a deli in District X. Jean-Georges was not only on a different level, it occupied an entirely different plane of existence. The interior was bright, airy, and outfitted with pristine white furniture that struck immediate terror in the heart of anyone remotely unsure of their fine motor skills.
Sharon's tail, already coiled around one leg to keep it from scrutiny, tightened around her thigh.
"We are eating here?" she asked uncertainly.
"We are." Nora said as the waiter approached. "Ah, Alexy. It has been too long. I'd like a bottle of 1999 Louis Roederer Cristal and..." She paused and waved towards Sharon. "A glass for her as well. We're celebrating her big day." The server nodded and crept away like a feudal servant as Nora leaned in. "I've given you all the details you need. You need to see if you can mimic the person I've presented."
Sharon, less than a year removed from surviving on literal garbage, stared at Nora like the other woman was an oncoming truck.
"My big day," she repeated, trying to chisel something manageable from the prompt she'd been provided.
"Indeed. Something that earns you a lunch at a premiere Manhattan restaurant, but not off of the exclusive and significantly more expensive dinner menu. With a somewhat older woman with an undefined relationship who seems content to down the better part of a bottle of champagne at noon." Nora smiled over the immaculately laid table. "This, all of this, is merely surface. A show. A picture of perfect opulence and wealth. Now take twenty steps in the right direction and you're standing next to a hot dog cart on a busy intersection. That is what shapeshifting is; understanding and effortlessly moving through any world knowing that in twenty steps you could be in an entirely different one that needs an entirely different person."
"When I am cat vastly different impressions may be communicated through body language only. No complicated backstory is required to acquire food from a hot dog cart, only adorable rolling." Despite the complaints, Sharon tried to think. This could be either a trap or a test, but probably both.
"'Big day,'" she said slowly, "this implies uncommon occurrence. Birthday is unlikely. Lack of apparent attachment to dining partner, this leaves such a conclusion unsupported also." The girl glanced at the clawed hands she'd placed in her lap to restlessly knead at her sweater-dress. "I have no ring, so day cannot be to commemorate engagement. Is too late to celebrate spring semester of college. Ordering of champagne would indicate is not work relationship."
Sharon paused again, then nodded to herself.
"Is work," the girl declared. "I begin my first job. Obviously has been acquired through family connections, here represented by your presence, but illusion of meritocracy is important. Some suitably official position has been made for me. 'Director of Social Media', maybe, because is assumed all persons under thirty possess digital competence. I shall make vague Aesthetic posts to company Instagram while actual Marketing Director is held accountable for my errors. His name is Jeremy. Already he resents my presence."
Nora didn't say anything for a moment as the wine reached the table and was poured. Before the waiter was more than a foot away, Nora leaned in faux-conspiratorially. "So tell me all about Jeremy. He doesn't really ride an electric scooter to work, does he?"
Sharon, caught off-guard despite the fact she should have seen this coming, stumbled slightly in the presence of the waiter before rallying. "He walks into the office wearing a helmet still," she replied as champagne was poured into the glass before her. She added, in a burst of inspiration, "Wears knee pads also. For extra safety."
"Of course. Ugh, I'm willing to bet he's vegan too." Nora shook her head as he filled her glass and took it a touch too quickly before having a sip. "I swear, young men these days. Your father despairs..."
The waiter disappeared as she settled back. "Good."
Sharon preened. Who said social interactions weren't a thing you could win?
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Date: 2024-02-28 05:08 am (UTC)Sharon, less than a year removed from surviving on literal garbage, stared at Nora like the other woman was an oncoming truck.
This line made me laugh.
I like that we got a little more on Nora's actions here versus other logs in Kevin's playlist mentions, the driving, and the interacting with others.
"Children and cats don't get told where they are going. They get put into cars and taken places. So who is asking?"
Such a good line to set the vibe of the interaction.