An Interesting Turn

Abram felt anxious. He was standing outside of the shit hole bar that only two nights ago he had met Chelsea, by chance, and played a few rounds of cards. And there he was, standing in the cold ten after seven, possibly getting stood up. Shoving his hands in his pockets he leaned against the outer brick wall, watching his breath curl as white smoke in the cold night air.

She's a few minutes late but then again, New York traffic is a bitch. If he understands, great. If he doesn't, then she gets to hang out at the bar and spend the dinner money on a bar tab. Chelsea gets within eyesight of the hole in the wall bar and spots the guy. With a sharp whistle that pierces the night air, she waves at him to come across the street.

Glancing over, he saw her across the street waving him down. Smiling he dodged through the traffic, jogging over coming to a stop in front of her. "Hey. How're you?"

"Freezing my tits of and tired of New York traffic," she says through a saccharine smile. "How are you?"

"Thinking that we should get going, the place I had in mind is just a couple blocks away, if that." Nodding off to the left he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he had forgotten just how cold winters could be. "You ready to go?"

"Lead on, Macduff," she says, her arm sweeping out in a dramatic motion. "Where did you pick, anyway?"

Smiling he shrugged his shoulders before turning on his heel heading off. Another hole in the wall, but I think you may like this one a bit more. Has a more....old school vibe, an old pub that was established in the turn of the 1900's. Been there ever since."

Chelsea follows a step or two behind him, admiring the view a little bit. "Sounds like my kind of place," she says happily. "How'd you find it?"

He paused step faltering for a moment or two. "Well...it's kind of an old past time place for me." He wasn't expecting to be stumbling for answers this early in the conversation.

She nods, ignoring his tripping over what seems to be his own two feet. "Good to know. Though if it sucks, I'm totally going to judge you," she points out happily.

Laughing he reaches out grabbing an old worn door handle pulling it open revealing a small cramped, yet warm, pub. He glanced over at the bar against the wall and his eyes surveyed the cluster of tables scattered across the old creaking wooden floors, the walls made of the same brick that he remembered the last time he had been here. He noted that the crowd wasn't much younger than mid forites, and that he and Chelsea were the youngest people inside. He hoped she didn't mind it, but something told him she wouldn't

She breezes past him and into the pub, taking a moment once she steps in to take a deep breath and soak up the atmosphere. It was... nice. A bit on the old side but she likes that in a place; it shows that it's got history, that it's got a foundation strong enough to last. "Nice digs," she says with a nod. "Very nice."

Chuckling he followed her in before leading her over to a table in a far corner after having a word with the server. Shrugging off his coat he draped it over the back of his chair glancing up and reaching over as if to help Chelsea with her own coat before stopping himself, remembering what era he was in. Shaking his head he sat down, hands reaching out to fidle with the candle set in the small glass bowl on the heavely used and scarred dark wooden table. "So..."

She sits down with a slow grin and eyes him from across the table. "So, you obviously made an attempt at chivalry there and then corrected yourself. Why?"

Glancing up, he offered a shrug. "From what I can tell, most women in todays society prefer to not have a ' chivalric chauvinistic bastard ' help them. I've seen one too many women get offended over a door being opened or a chair getting pulled out for them. Kinda leaves you to wonder where you stand and if it's even worth attempting to only get smacked for trying to be a gentleman."

"Those are the nasty femmenazis that no one would want to fuck anyway," she says with a wave of her hand. "Feel free to pull a door open for me any time. But it's only about a third of the female population that are like that. And even most of those, for all their protesting, enjoy the attention."

Nodding he went about toying with the napkin that had been folded neatly underneath his silverware. "So, why'd you agree to do dinner with me?" Glancing up at her he watched her. "You seemed pretty...bothered by me the other night. You could've just walked away."

"I never back out on a bet," she suggests with a bit of a laugh. "What you should be asking is why I bothered to come talk to you in the first place."

He laughed a bit running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up a bit on the side giving him a more boyish appearance. "Do tell, why did you come and talk to me?"

"Because you looked interesting," she says simply. "And I'm always spot on when it comes to judging a person." She waggles a finger at him with a wry smile. "Gypsies always are."

"Interesting is a good way to put it. I have a question for you though, because you never answered. Was I right about your name?" Abram wanted to get the conversation about this over with. He knew she was teasing and having fun but he felt in knots over the way she looked at him when he had taken it a step too far. He'd rather get it out there before he royally screwed up again and she wrote him off as a stalker instead of someone who just had a knack for knowing what he shouldn't due to his...ability.

"My name is my own and I choose who knows it," she says as her smile falls quickly. "But to appease what I'm sure is your ego, yes."

Shaking his head he held a hand up, "No, I just...it isn't my ego..." glancing around he found himself struggling a bit before biting the bullet and looking up at her, "I promised I would explain it to you, feel like I owe you that much for offering me the company. But...I dunno...I knew what your name was. Not the last one, just Chelsea Dagger."
He waited a moment to gauge her reaction in case she decided to make a run for it.

He's a nut job. But far from the worst she's ever gone on a date with. "And how did you just 'know' that?"

"...look....I'm a little bit...different." Glancing up he knew she probably thought he was insane. "I'm a lot older than I look." Shaking his head, Abram leaned back in his chair second guessing his previous bright idea to spill his guts and potentially scare the living hell out of the gorgeous woman across from him. "Do ya believe in...well...the supernatural and an after life?"