hebeimmortalized | (no subject)

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people: paul schafer

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Paul is, Jillie is quite certain, some kind of actual living saint. She knows how he'd woken up when they'd shared her bed, and he'd actually excused himself. And, sure, part of Jillie wishes she hadn't — mostly the southern part of her — but she appreciates that he did, anyway.

But this is something entirely new. Jillie hasn't been on a date in . . . years. Even before she'd gotten sick, she hadn't so much dated as she had . . . gotten around. At least a little bit. It's nice to actually get to know the guy. And they are getting to know each other. They talk a lot. Almost as much as she and Jack talk. Almost as much as she and her therapist talk.

And today, they're going on a date. A real date.

It takes her hours to pick out an outfit. She makes Girl help. She sends pictures to Jack to double check. She's nervous and terrified and excited.

But she can do this.

She's got her hair braided up off her neck, and silver jewelry to accent her dress. Her shoes match her makeup and she's got a small clutch with her phone, keys, and cigarettes. Paul is picking her up. She feels like a princess.

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"It's Italian," he says softly, leaning in so that his mouth is close to her ear. "Expensive. On the shore. I'm trying for romantic."

He knows Jillie isn't good with surprises.

She looks up at him from under her lashes. "You know you don't have to woo me with expensive meals, right?" she asks, but she doesn't look displeased.

"I know that," says Paul, with a little nod of his head. He squeezes her hand. "I'm buying dinner because I want to."

She nods, brushing her thumb against his. "Okay," she says. "On the shore, you said?" She hopes they get a window seat. She finds the ocean here mesmerizing, most days.

"Right on the shore," he says. "I thought we could go for a walk after we eat? I'm still getting used to having the ocean right there. I suppose that's not a thing you had to get used to, coming from San Francisco."

"It was just always there," she confirms. A seashore walk after a fancy meal sounds amazing, and Jillie somewhat regrets not bringing a sweater or something. But maybe she can just borrow Paul's blazer. That doesn't sound like a bad compromise.

"It was closer in Brennin, but...I had a lot of other things to do," he says. And he hadn't been in the mood for looking at the ocean. He turns his head, grazing the tip of his nose against her powdered cheek. He catches himself just short of kissing her skin.

Her eyes drift closed and she leans into the touch. With a small smile, she leans back again, watching him. "Tell me one true thing about Brennin?" she asks. She's trying to get better about it. She's trying to get better.

"One true thing," he echoes, thinking it over. "Between Brennin and Catal, there's no border. Just a river in a ravine. I crossed it on a rope."

"Oh my god," she says. "Seriously? On a rope?" She looks at him, a little impressed and a little alarmed. "Why?"

"Because a prince had an idea," he says, huffing a laugh at the expression on her face. "About a girl. And that was the most hidden way in."

"What a dog," she teases. She leans her arm against his, and says, "Tell me something true about Toronto?"

"But a pretty face, so he gets away with it," says Paul, smiling fondly at the thought of Diarmuid. "Something true about Toronto. My favourite place in Toronto is the ROM. I've been going there since I was a kid to see the dinosaurs."

"A museum?" she asks, looking at him. "I can see that about you. The fossils freaked me the fuck out when I was little. I could never bring myself to actually look at them directly. Does that sound stupid?"

"No," he says, smiling. "I was always into the dinosaurs, but the ROM has an Irish Elk skeleton and that thing? Is the stuff of nightmares."

The cab rolls to a stop in front of the restaurant.

"Here we are."

"I won't even ask," she assures, and she looks out the window at the restaurant as they stop. It looks nice, classy, and she's glad she chose the dress she had. She allows Paul to exit the cab and slides to the edge of the seat so she can get her feet under her properly, then follows him out.

"Wow. You weren't kidding."

"Absolutely not," he says, and he offers her hand instead of his arm. "You look absolutely beautiful," he says. "I'm not sure if I told you that."

"It's okay if you did," she says with a faint blush. She slides her fingers against his palm and lets her thumb brush his skin. "I like hearing it."

"I'll remember that," he says, smiling, pushing open the door and holding it for Jillie to step through ahead of him. He greets the hostess.

"I've got a table booked under Schafer?" he says, smiling when she confirms. "Ladies first." He gestures for Jillie to walk ahead of him.

She feels exhilarated as she follows the hostess to their table. Nobody looking at her would ever guess that she's damaged, that she's got issues. She's just a beautiful girl having dinner with a beautiful man in a beautiful restaurant, and there's a part of her that might actually cry about this. Tears of happiness, or relief, maybe. Not yet, though. She doesn't want to smudge her makeup.

Jack pulls her chair out for her to sit before he walks around to his own seat and slides into it. He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair.

"You really do," he says.

She settles into her seat, scooping her skirt under her so it sits flat and doesn't ride up.

"I really do what?" she asks. She places her clutch in her lap and looks at him from under her lashes.

"Look beautiful," says Paul, flushing faintly as he reaches out for a menu, glancing up at her through his lashes.

She huffs a soft laugh and struggles not to fidget. "I didn't think I said that out loud."

He laughs softly, pushing his hand back through his hair.

"Tell me something true about you and Jack."