shadows_have_offended | (no subject)

Entry tags:

harry starks,
ig

(no subject)

He has work in the morning, but it's not stopping him from going out. Besides, this is hardly going out. One of his coworkers put him up on a blind date, and so he's out for that--but the other guy was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, so Neil doesn't think he's showing up at all. So here's Neil, standing outside of a bar, smoking and feeling a bit like an idiot for being stood up.

He should probably just go. If the guy wasn't here twenty minutes ago, or even five minutes ago, it's reasonable to say that he's not coming and Neil should just give up. He pulls out his phone and checks the texts. There's the one from his coworker, describing the guy he's supposed to be meeting, and there's the one from the guy, confirming that he has Neil's number.

Maybe he'll go to a club. Maybe he'll just go home so he can smoke in a heated room rather than shivering outside. Maybe he'll get this fucking meal and send a picture to the guy; his loss. Neil's an entirely pleasant date.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“God, no, not a doctor,” Neil laughs gently, shaking his head. Never a doctor. His smile is easy, but small. He stirs the ice in his drink with the worthless little straw in it. “I’m waiting to hear if I got into college. Library studies.”

He waits for a judgment on that, though why a mans approval means anything is really beyond him.

He has a lovely laugh. It's a little flirtatious, but it feels natural, almost accidental. It's clear he doesn't know Harry and isn't trying very hard to get on his good side, in his bed, or in his wallet. It's just a laugh and just a conversation and that's nice.

"Library studies," he echoes, with a little frown. No judgement. He just doesn't know what it is. "Never heard of that. What do they teach you in library studies?" For all his toughness, Harry doesn't mind admitting he doesn't know something and is always willing to learn.

“You know, I hadn’t heard of it until I came here either,” Neil admits, shaking his head. He pushes his hair back slightly and considers; he’s not really sure what it entails either, except that at the end of a degree he can be hired as a librarian, and that sounds rather nice. “Archiving and maintaining a library, I imagine. It’s all the training to become a librarian or work for a museum and all that.”

"You'll probably learn a little of everything," Harry says, and he sounds convinced even if he doesn't really know and has no way of knowing it. "And there are libraries here, and museums here; you'll have a job in no time. So, you like reading then. You must if you want to be surrounded by books for a living."

“I do, yes,” Neil says proudly. He loves reading, in fact, and it is a driving force in his decision, as much as being a librarian is a more tangible choice than acting is. “I’m a bit of an amateur actor, actually. I was in a couple Shakespeare productions—one back home and two here, the summer before last.”

His first summer in Darrow, in fact. It had been a lovely time. “Do you like the theater?”

"Really?" Harry is instantly interested. He's always loved show business, and once upon a time he was certain he would become Tommy's agent. He was going to make a star of him and he was going to be so proud of his boy.

But things went down differently and Tommy got killed.

"I prefer film," Harry admits and smiles. "I ain't sophisticated enough for theatre." He doesn't mind saying it. He never understood Shakespeare.

“I had a teacher who was very good at getting us inspired to Shakespeare and the Romantics and the like,” Neil says, rather nostalgic, like it was a very great time ago and not just a couple of years. “And then I acted in one—I was Puck in Midsummer—and it was...”

Neil’s breathless for a moment, remembering it. I was good, he’d said so sadly to his mother, I was really good. Being in Much Ado and King Lear was good, but not the force that Midsummer had been.

He laughs again, now at himself. “They’ve got movies here. Even ones from home.”

Theatre definitely seems to get the kid excited. It's nice to see someone get excited for something they love. "Yeah, I know. Haven't had the change to go yet."

He sips his drink and regards his young friend. "So, you like acting, and you're good," he deduces. "Ever thought about acting in a film?"

“I don’t think I have the face for it,” Neil says, modest. But it feels like a compliment, to be asked if he’d even considered it. “I’m pretty sure I have a face for radio, but that’s just my opinion.”

It's modest and not that false modesty of pretty renters who charm old men.

"Well, that shows what you know," he says with a smile. "You're plenty good looking, son. Can't find that in a book, so you'll have to trust me on that."

What Neil knows is that looks matter less than anyone ever explained to him when he was growing up, unless you were truly astounding, and that his personality only makes up for so much of the difference. He smiles, blushes a little bit, and shrugs one shoulder.

"Come on, I can't be the first who ever told you that," Harry says. "Or you've been hanging out with some very unappreciative bastards."

"You're not," Neil says, modesty turning into shyness for a moment. He'd been called a lot of things that complimented him while he'd been in Darrow. He's fairly certain a good number of them have had to do with flirting with half-drunk people that were willing to buy him a drink.

"I can still appreciate the compliment."

"Beauty is wasted on the young," Harry quotes. "Friend of mine used to say that. Actor. Used to be real pretty in his youth. 'They don't know what they have.' He was an ugly old sod when I knew him. Good drinker, though. Good for business."

“Oh good to know I have cynical ugliness to look forward to in my old age,” Neil teases smartly. It’s easy to smile around Harry, to find the good humor in it. It’s nice to smile, with some space between the heartache of losing Goodnight and Billy Rocks and this evening, better than he expected.

Their food comes and Neil, who’s been sipping his drink steadily, orders a second one—heavy on the scotch.

Harry lets him, but orders a bottle of wine and two glasses just in case Neil wants to join him. "Sounds like tie start of a promising career in radio," he teases back.

The bottle of wine is something new. Neil drinks beer and liquor, mostly, and hasn't had much of an excuse to drink wine. He's seen it wine bottles at Guy and Anthony's, the couple times he's stayed over, but there's never been much of an excuse to have any of it.

"Did you do much else, back in London? Or did the club take up most of your time?"

Wine goes with a fancy dinner, or at least with dinner that you want to turn a little more fancy. It doesn't cross Harry's mind the kid has never had wine.

"I ran some businesses on the side," Harry says."Investments abroad, import and export, that sort of thing."

"A regular entrepreneur," Neil says with a rather charmed smile. He digs into his food, and smiles when the wine and his second drink show up. Possibly, mixing a scotch and soda and wine isn't his best plan.

Then again, it feels a bit like liquid courage. Not that he needs it so much. He's already said he's thinking about Harry's cock, and anything else that might happen after dinner and drinks feels spectacularly extra.

"Well, I grew up owning nothing, so I made money where I could find it. And if you're resourceful, money can be found anywhere."

He pours himself a glass. "Will you join me? It'll go better with your food than scotch and soda. Let's do it properly." he suggests with a pleasant smile.

Neil nods, nudging his wine glass closer so that Harry can pour him some. He’ll keep his scotch, but maybe wait until he’s enjoyed the wine. He’s got a little smile on as he watches Harry pour for him.

“I’d say you were trying to seduce me,” he says softly, “but that hardly takes a bottle of wine.”

Harry huffs a little laugh. "That too," he admits with a lopsided smile. "But for now I just think a nice dinner deserves a drink that doesn't come with a straw."

It is a rather nice dinner, if only because it's with good company, and far better than he was expecting with this blind date he had. He wouldn't call whatever it is Harry and he are doing just now a date--a coincidence, maybe, and a happy chance, but not a date.

He lifts his glass in a little toast. "I hope you're not thinking this gets you out of coming back to the cafe some time," he says, and then sips his wine. He's not sure he likes it. He's sure it will grow on him.

"You sure?" Harry teases. "Your friends were quite unforgiving." They kept giggling about Neil's interest - and the bruise on the nape of his neck. Perhaps he shouldn't think of the nape of Neil's neck too much in public.

But he likes knowing Neil likes his company. He's certainly enjoying Neil's company.

"I should give them something to gossip about," Neil says without shame. He shrugs a bit. They're no worse than his friends at Welton had ever been, and so Neil isn't bothered by their giggling and teasing. And, as with teasing Rosie about her friends, sometimes it's nice to give them a little fuel for the fire.

"They're all natives, so they're awfully boring, anyway. I can afford to be the interesting one."