sunnydalealum | (no subject)

"I'll meet you there, don't move one inch." Call him a silly, chauvinist demon, but he'd really prefer it to make sure Beth's okay before she goes off on her own into the Big Apple. Who cares if it's daylight--

Speaking of which... Upstairs, his little box from Alcina's lies (more or less) untouched. "We'll go someplace, grab a coffee, something to eat-- Are you hungry? I know this great place not too far from there, always wanted to go."

He pauses, but he's nowhere near done. "I have some interesting news, but I'm not sure if I should just yell surprise the moment I see you, but... You know what? Surprises can be really fugly. I got this thing, this charm from a friend in the industry, means I can go out during the day like anyone else because I look like anyone else. How about it, kitten?"

She draws in a surprised breath. "You can do that? That's, that's great!"

"Isn't it fabulous? I hadn't even thought about it, but, you know, the opportunity came along and... It's actually some kind of genius. Anyway, I'll ask Angus to gimme a ride, you just look for the car. We'll be there in no time, okay?"

"Call me when you get nearby? I'll come out and look for you."

It's going to take at least half an hour, probably closer to forty minutes, for a car to get from Lorne's place in Manhattan to Jamaica. She can wait inside the train station; there's a bench, and a newsstand where she can buy a magazine to read while she's waiting.

Probably, yes. Probably a little more, because here comes that age old dilemma again.

What to wear.

Just a touch shy of an hour later, Beth's cell phone will start ringing. It's Lorne, apologizing for taking so long - but adding in a wry tone of voice that he's a vain demon, always was, and he just isn't used to working with peaches and cream.

She laughs, getting up from the bench and hefting her duffelbag with her free hand. "But you're here now? I'm coming out to the corner."

"Just pulling up, on the lookout for a very special someone." He's smiling, and it should be perfectly clear over the connection. "Need help with your stuff?"

It's a strange kind of glee, knowing you can jump out of a car to help a friend; knowing no one will stare or point fingers.

"I've just got the one bag --"

That's when she spots the car, and starts to wave.

The back door opens, and out steps a man - could be any Caucasian fella, reasonably tall and broad shouldered but not buff in any sense of the word; stocky is more accurate a term. All things considered, from the dark brown hair to the equally dark eyes, it really could be anyone. But the bright grin on his face, and the way it just fits the rest of his features is one hundred percent Lorne.

So is the voice. "Baby girl!" Arms open wide, he's so going for a hug. Hugs before luggage. 'Nuff said.

Edited 2010-07-22 11:54 (UTC)

For a moment she's taken aback, even knowing to expect it -- but it isn't until he moves, until he speaks, that the identity slots into place and it is Lorne.

The hug is awkward but heartfelt, her arms going as far around him as she can reach and holding tight.

"Hey," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut to push back the renewed blast of emotional upheaval - she's fine, she's okay, she's gorgeous and alive and just absolutely fabulous.

"It is so good to see you."

"Hi," she says, muffled by the fabric of his jacket.

"...I missed you."

It's a plain one, compared to his preferred ensembles, but it's good quality. It'll last him a long time, and it...fits this new face of his, fits the entire body, glamored bit by glamored bit. Although, who cares about clothes? This isn't just any normal occasion, this is a reunion, not a time for noting silly things like fashion statements.

"Missed you too. Goodness gracious, I missed you so much, worried like crazy." He presses a small kiss to the top of her head, then leans back a bit. "Shall we?"

Twenty minutes later they're at a place somewhere between a café and a diner, pleasant but not too pricey. Beth bites her lip anyway as she studies the menu.

"I can't really afford more than a coffee," she mumbles.

"No, see, why don't we play it like this... This time it's on me. Huh?" This in itself naturally implies he'd like a next time, but also that he's open for suggestions.

In other news, this is fantastic. He's at a diner. In broad daylight. Money can't buy you this feeling, bubbling and rising through his torso. It's nothing short of wonder.

She glances up at him, and smiles. "Thanks," she says softly. "I'll pay next time? Um --" And her smile shifts, taking on a tinge of nervousness -- but also a faint hint of mischief. "That's assuming I can afford it, which ... it would help if I could get my old job back?"

"What do you mean get it back?" He murmurs softly, and leans down with a wink. "You never lost it.

"The boys and girls and everyone in between missed you, you know."

Her eyes light up with relief and delight. "How is everyone? Do they... do they know what happened?"

"Everyone's fine, and to answer your more pressing question, no," he shakes his head, thinking he'll have a large cup of coffee, and let's see...waffles or a steak sandwich, choices, choices.

"You had to go away for a while on family business. Everyone knows that much."

She chews on that for a moment, reaching for her glass of water.

"Some of them will be able to tell, you know," she says very quietly. "What's changed."

"Yeah. And they'll very probably gossip it up, but it'll die down before long. Most of them won't care if they do notice something is different. Apart from your glowing complexion, I mean."

He means that, too. "You look absolutely wonderful."

She smiles crookedly. "I guess being under house arrest agrees with me. Or maybe it's getting out."

"I think it's just being you. That's what puts the spring back in your step, that's what brings some color to your cheeks. That's all."

He gestures at the menu. "What are you having? I know I'm having trouble deciding on anything other than coffee."

Just being you. And that's it, isn't it? Just being her. Not having to be what they call her.

"...I kind of want waffles."

"Ooh, me too." He grins suddenly, and he'd slap his knee if he wouldn't look completely ridiculous - he wonders fleetingly if he's too flamboyant for this look, or if his quirks fit the glamour. He suspects that somehow, he seems even more of a queen than normal...but that maybe that's okay. Of course it's okay, it's who he is. If people want to make assumptions, let them. He's never cared before, why should he start now?

"Let's have waffles."