07-07-2014, 07:27 PM
Drayson had succeeded at distracting himself both with the music, a book he had plucked off an adjacent shelf, and an email that had popped up on his Wallet as Victoria was led over by the staff. The atmosphere of the place was decidedly calming for him; the classic old-world feel, the smell of the place. It was well worth the money, but even then, it wasn't a place he would frequent alone or regularly.
He glanced up only as the waiter drew near, his gaze moving from the young man to the woman he was leading along and stared for a moment before understanding what was happening. He would have to remind Francis of his age; Drayson was far closer to his 40's the his 20's; this woman was far too young to be wasting her time with someone his age.
Drayson stood as Victoria introduced herself, and shook her hand in greeting. His hand was far warmer and rough then one may have expected of someone of his lofty position, where years of pencil pushing and desk sitting should surely have softened him up, but his grip was pointedly gentle. She was certainly lovely; tired perhaps, but that was entirely justified, considering what he knew of her. Which was not much, asides that she worked with Francis in some fashion. The man was exhausting, after all.
"I am, yes."
He collected and closed the book before carefully returning it to it's place on the shelf. A replica of an original copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'. His Wallet was thumbed off and returned to his pocket, where he hoped to ignore it for the immediate future.
"You are the image of loveliness, Victoria. Francis did not do you justice."
He had no interest in women obsessed on their appearance; those that spent a small fortune on jewelry or makeup or clothes. In truth, he had little interest in anyone who spent a small fortune on such trivial things. As such, hers was a classic beauty; something he could appreciate far more then anything achieved through surgery and makeup.
He encouraged her to sit, and only resumed his seat when she had. "Thank you for coming out tonight. I must admit, if it were not for Francis' constant badgering, I probably would not have realized how long it had been since I last tried something like this."
It was the hair, perhaps. The light touch of makeup; just enough to cover what seemed to be a fading bruise. What was the story behind that, he wondered? And then it dawned on him. He looked at her anew; the hair down, a dress uniform. She had been on the news recently, one of those rescued in DV in the opening day of violence there. Her tired appearance made far more sense.
He would not broach the topic though; if the woman was willing to be out on a blind date, it was because she was trying to move on from those memories. And so the subject was quickly noted as off-topic.
"He is a manipulative one, is he not? Now you are at this beautiful place, with a tired old man like myself."
He grinned; the man likely hadn't let her know all the details of whom she would be going out with that night, and had likely over-exaggerated how much she was looking forward to the date. Not that he actually considered himself old, but certainly older then she might have been hoping.
He glanced up only as the waiter drew near, his gaze moving from the young man to the woman he was leading along and stared for a moment before understanding what was happening. He would have to remind Francis of his age; Drayson was far closer to his 40's the his 20's; this woman was far too young to be wasting her time with someone his age.
Drayson stood as Victoria introduced herself, and shook her hand in greeting. His hand was far warmer and rough then one may have expected of someone of his lofty position, where years of pencil pushing and desk sitting should surely have softened him up, but his grip was pointedly gentle. She was certainly lovely; tired perhaps, but that was entirely justified, considering what he knew of her. Which was not much, asides that she worked with Francis in some fashion. The man was exhausting, after all.
"I am, yes."
He collected and closed the book before carefully returning it to it's place on the shelf. A replica of an original copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'. His Wallet was thumbed off and returned to his pocket, where he hoped to ignore it for the immediate future.
"You are the image of loveliness, Victoria. Francis did not do you justice."
He had no interest in women obsessed on their appearance; those that spent a small fortune on jewelry or makeup or clothes. In truth, he had little interest in anyone who spent a small fortune on such trivial things. As such, hers was a classic beauty; something he could appreciate far more then anything achieved through surgery and makeup.
He encouraged her to sit, and only resumed his seat when she had. "Thank you for coming out tonight. I must admit, if it were not for Francis' constant badgering, I probably would not have realized how long it had been since I last tried something like this."
It was the hair, perhaps. The light touch of makeup; just enough to cover what seemed to be a fading bruise. What was the story behind that, he wondered? And then it dawned on him. He looked at her anew; the hair down, a dress uniform. She had been on the news recently, one of those rescued in DV in the opening day of violence there. Her tired appearance made far more sense.
He would not broach the topic though; if the woman was willing to be out on a blind date, it was because she was trying to move on from those memories. And so the subject was quickly noted as off-topic.
"He is a manipulative one, is he not? Now you are at this beautiful place, with a tired old man like myself."
He grinned; the man likely hadn't let her know all the details of whom she would be going out with that night, and had likely over-exaggerated how much she was looking forward to the date. Not that he actually considered himself old, but certainly older then she might have been hoping.