undergrounds | Small Town Celebrities party log for Sept17-Oct6

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Small Town Celebrities party log for Sept17-Oct6

The Redbright students clearly aren't getting enough homework if they have the time to start following their favorite members of supernatural society around for the chance at getting The Perfect Shot of them looking hot. It starts slow and small, for the first week, anyway. Just a random person pulling out their phone and taking a quick shot. Can't even be sure it was you they were photographing. By the five days in, though, they've started making a game of it. Groups of two and three going out together. Following people for a while. Having the audacity to wave when they're looked at. Some even invite their target to take a picture with them and their friends. (If you say yes to that, please do flex a little.)

Ratings on the website change on a day to day basis and currently both Redbright Professors and the Hillingdon Clan lists are the current most popular due to the territory change over and general familiarity with the groups.

Hans Estergaard had been reigning supreme as #1 in Hillingdon since he had the audacity to challenge Sylvia for her seat on the council. An unprecedented length of time! (It's like the students enjoy the idea of someone standing up to Sylvia, the person ultimately in charge of telling them what to do. Go figure.)

Most factions are getting more attention from these folks, though. They really have a lot of time on their hands.

[[ooc: post around like it's a party log. If you want an npc bothering you and want me to play them, put NPC request in the subject line.]]

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Faolan keeps his eyebrows raised at the other man for a moment longer -- someone he knows? Who? Who would put a look like that on his face? -- before he focuses back on the task at hand. The menu, ordering a starter for the pair of them. He can honestly say that pâté isn't exactly his favorite cuisine, and he supposed since they're going to spend money on it, he might as well actually enjoy what they're eating instead.

"Well... I don't know why you should, but I don't. Exactly. The mussels sound good though," he says, glancing at Lancelot hopefully. He knows the other man likes seafood. He's cooked with it before after all. Hell, he's cooked it for him for that matter. (Then again, Faolan would even prefer escargots over pâté any day.)

"Wouldn't that be quite big for a starter?"

At least to Lancelot, although he still seems distracted -- eyes flicking up and around the restaurant.

"There's some toast with onion too, which might be nice. If you like onion enough, I suppose, and salmon..."

His eyes flit up again -- and she is here. It definitely is here. Why is Elaine here? It nags at him, and he knows she's seen him this time. Even as he drops his eyes again and fakes casual interest in his menu.

Faolan shrugs slightly, before glancing at the menu again to read about the toast. It doesn't sound bad, all things considered, and he glances up to the other man to say as much, but catches the look on his face as he does and the absent look in his eyes. Watching the way the other man looks down at the menu and tries to look interested in it while obviously being otherwise distracted. Faolan frowns slightly.

"The toast sounds fine, but. Are you...?" he trails off for a moment, uncertain as to why the other man is so troubled, before speaking up again. "Is there something wrong?"

Lancelot is loathe to answer, that much is obvious, eyes tracking over the menu. He looks up and winces a touch apologetically, is about to start answering when movement catches the corner of his eye and a young woman appears by their table. Her hair falls in red curls, and she beams happily at the two of them -- phone brandished in one hand.

"Hi!" she begins, "isn't it such a small world? I didn't expect to see you here."

From Lancelot's face he's unsure how he feels about this, but after a second he offers an uneasy smile.

"It is! Elaine, this is Faolan. Faolan, Elaine. She's a student at Redbright. We seem to keep running into each other lately."

Faolan registers the other man's unease, although Lancelot is far too polite to give off just who or what is making him uneasy, and thus Faolan is just generally suspicious of their surroundings instead of being specifically suspicious of anyone in particular. Certainly not Elaine herself, although his eyes do narrow slightly in response to her presence. (This is supposed to be a date, after all.)

He nods slightly in response to the introduction but is loathe to know quite how to respond from there. Really as far as he is concerned after all it's a pleasure but he would honestly prefer it if she get lost. Though somewhere in the back of his mind questions register. Student had he said? Lancelot always had had a problem with younger women.

"A small world indeed," Faolan grumbles, more to himself than anything before greeting her a bit more formally. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Are you here with someone?" Lancelot prompts curiously, half hoping she might say yes then go back to them.

"Oh, no! No, no I was just in the area and thought I'd stop by for some lunch. Let me see if I can pull up a chair --"

Lancelot's face falls a little as he turns away and he winces, trying to think of an excuse.

"Oh, well, we won't be long so --"

"Nonsense! You just get here!"

He fidgets with his menu uneasily as she tries to flag down a waiter and shoots Faolan a slightly helpless look.

Faolan quickly assesses the situation unfolding before him. The date hadn't been going the best as far as he could tell -- hell, as far as he knew, Lancelot didn't even really register that it had been a date, when he'd asked it of him. But that didn't mean that he's willing to let this woman insert herself and take it away from him. He had worked hard to get up the courage to ask. Worked hard to research the restaurant, worked hard to assure they would get seats, worked hard to reassure himself that there would be something that Lancelot would like about it. And they hadn't even managed to order yet.

One look at Lancelot's expression says all that Faolan needs to know about this situation.

"Excuse me, Elaine was it?" Faolan asks. He pushes himself to stand -- not that his height helps all that much, but it's better than addressing her from his seat. "Elaine, it's lovely to meet you, but I had reserved this table for two and I intend for it to remain as such."

Elaine barely glances up at Faolan, she's largely disinterested by him, before waving a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry," she assures him, "I won't stay long -- oh, thank you!"

A waiter hesitantly pauses near their table with a chair, now unsure if he should be putting it down or not. Lancelot looks a little like he wants the ground to just swallow him up entirely.

Faolan glances down at Lancelot and feels bad for the fact that he's probably half the reason the other man looks like he wants to crawl under the table and disappear. But Faolan has a point to be made. He's not going to let her just waltz in on his life like this. He won't let her steamroll over Lancelot either. The pair of them obviously aren't friends, and Faolan feels his hackles rising as he instinctively fights to protect the other man from her.

"No," Faolan says, both to the waiter and to Elaine herself. "You won't stay at all. And neither will we." He glances down at Lancelot, an apology in his eyes. He doubts that they can recover from this, not at this restaurant at least, and for that he is sorry. He had tried. For Lancelot's sake. "Let's go," he says, his voice softer as he addresses Lancelot than the way he had just been speaking to Elaine.

Lancelot watches the proceedings uncomfortably, starting to hunch over slightly as if to make himself smaller and less visible. Then Faolan says And neither will we and he straightens suddenly, blinks at Faolan in open surprise and relief. Let's go, Faolan says, and he brightens considerably before pushing up and -- hesitating, looking at Elaine.

"Forgive me, Elaine, we really are -- very busy --" He tries to find a way to circle past her closer to Faolan, slightly awkward again now as she frowns in confusion. People have begun looking up from their food curiously.

"Oh, no, please stay! I was only thinking of having the soup! You've only been here ten minutes or so, you can't even have ordered yet!"

Faolan's eyes narrow as Lancelot stands and Elaine protests their departure. Only been here ten minutes or so, she says, and how can she know that, save for if she had followed them there. Followed Lancelot there. The idea of it sets his teeth on edge, and Faolan moves to make certain that he is standing between the pair of them.

"We are leaving," Faolan repeats, keeping from raising his voice but making certain that he is absolutely clear on the matter. "We are leaving and you are staying here. And if you don't..." Faolan says, trailing off and lowering his voice so that only those in the immediate area will hear him as he continues. "If you don't and you choose to follow us then you had better believe I will call the police on you."

He makes certain he's made his point before he places his hand on Lancelot's back and without a second thought or glance, turns to lead him out of the restaurant to the street beyond.

Lancelot realises, with a belated sinking sense of embarrassment, that call the police is a peculiar threat to be making when standing beside a police officer. He cringes at his own inability to deal with the situation but lets Faolan lead him out regardless, keeping his eyes down so he doesn't have to see the awkward looks he's getting. The waiter, at least, has the sense to try and stop Elaine following too quickly, so she isn't on their heels as they reach the door and make their way out.

"I'm sorry," Lancelot is saying softly, "I have no idea how she found us here. She's... a little -- strange, but I never thought..."

That she'd be that invasive. Which is strange, because he should have recognised the signs. He's a police officer. How did he not?

Faolan shakes his head slightly. "It's not your fault," he says, keeping his hand on the other man's back, throwing glances over his shoulder until they are safely around the corner and out of the view of the restaurant itself. So much for his plans for the evening, he thinks to himself, before turning back to Lancelot again.

"She was following you," he said. "You didn't have any say in the matter yourself. Even if you'd noticed before, there wouldn't have been much else to do about it besides this anyway." He shrugs slightly, before turning his gaze to the road ahead of them. Sticking his hands in his pockets as he does.

"At least we hadn't gotten around to ordering yet. It would have been harder to walk out if there had been a ticket to handle." Small blessings, he supposes.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, and glances around uneasily -- trying to put Elaine out of his mind but still a little uncomfortable. "We could go somewhere else? I admit, I don't know this area very well but there has to be somewhere. I said I'd eat out with you and I'd still like to. It's like you said, the place doesn't matter so much as the company."

Right? He forces a hopeful smile, trying to rally they both of them by sheer force of will.

Faolan shakes his head again. "No," he says. "She's still in the area. She might... 'Happen' upon us again if we stick around. There's too much of a risk here. We've already been chased out of one restaurant, and that waiter won't hold her back forever." He doesn't think his temper could handle another such fiasco in one day.

He glances aside at the other man and his expression softens somewhat in response to Lancelot's. The place doesn't matter, so much as the company. "I'd still like to treat you out some day," he admits softly, "but. Maybe... We could go back to mine? Order some takeaway? My treat."

He glances away again. "I know it won't be the same, but. It's probably the best chance of salvaging we have, without the chance of interruption. If...you're interested, that is..."

Lancelot, in truth, looks a little relieved at the suggestion.

"I'd like that, and I think my nerves would appreciate it too."

Even if Elaine didn't find them Lancelot knows he'd be looking over his shoulder, wary that she might spring out of the shadows.

"Train or cab?"

Faolan tosses another glance behind them -- truth be told he isn't certain that she won't pop out hot on the pursuit sooner rather than later. There's no guarantee that she won't, really.

He turns back to Lancelot with an apologetic glance. "Maybe we should take a cab," he suggests. It'll be a more private way of traveling, and besides... "There's less of a risk of being tracked that way. She might be something of a stalker, but she's not a professional." He flicks the other man something of a smile. "Hopefully your nerves will appreciate that even more. Mine certainly do."

Lancelot nods, glancing up and down the road vaguely as they walk then shifting closer to the edge of the pavement to flag down a black cab. He clambers into the back and lets Faolan handle giving his address, pressing himself into a corner slightly and trying to force himself not to look back out the window. He waits until Faolan is in too and doing up his seat-belt, studies him a second.

"I'll be honest," he says softly, "I didn't think French food was really your thing anyway. Seemed a little fussy for your taste."

Faolan settles himself in beside the other man with a sigh, fastening up his own belt more because he's certain Lancelot might say something about it otherwise than out of any particular habit of his own. He can feel the other man's gaze on him and so he glances up at the other man for a moment, quietly listening to Lancelot's observations before sinking back further in his seat and wishing that the earth might just decide to swallow him up there and then.

When the universe doesn't cooperate -- for the second time that evening -- Faolan speaks up to answer. "It's not, really," he confirms quietly, turning his eyes down to his hands in his lap. "But I... Wanted to go somewhere nice, I suppose. For you. With you." He shrugs slightly, helplessly, swallowing slightly before turning to glance out the window. "I suppose that I've learned my lesson now though, haven't I," he says, trying to play off the fiasco of the evening but the words are slightly too self-deprecating for humor.

He considers that for a long moment, considers the way Faolan turns away, then drops his eyes to his lap as he tries to decide how to word his answer.

"You don't need to impress me," he settles on. "I like you well enough already, Faolan. I won't like you more just because you try to be someone else. Besides which, when have you ever seen me serve fussy food? I make everything in big vats and ladle it out."

Faolan's gaze falls from looking out the window itself to the trim on the door of the cab at Lancelot's words. He supposes that it had been a ridiculous idea, from start to finish. Asking him out -- of course he would never have understood he had meant it as a date, Lancelot did everything he could to see them as nothing more than platonic friends. He liked him well enough already, after all. And the food? Apparently that choice had been a mistake as well. He had seen the relief in the other man's face at his choice to leave. Of course some of it had to do with the girl, but.

God, he really is a fool, isn't he? A fool who just doesn't seem to know when enough is enough. Faolan shifts to scrub his face with his hands for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh as he does. "But I wanted to impress you," he admits, from behind his hands. "That was rather the point." Of all of it, really. Well enough isn't going to get him anywhere anytime soon, after all.

Lancelot lets out a soft sigh, reaches over for one of Faolan's hands and links their fingers together -- gently squeezes it. His voice drops to something soft, barely above a whisper.

"But you don't need to, Faolan. I promise."

Faolan turns to look at the other man, an openly questioning and uncertain look in his eyes. Tentatively he tightens his fingers around Lancelot's in turn, although he isn't quite sure he understands.

"Don't I?" he asks softly, his own voice barely above a whisper himself.

"You don't," Lancelot confirms, and he glances up at Faolan -- studies him in silence a moment before letting his eyes flit out the taxi window to the traffic going past. His fingers loosen slightly around Faolan's, just in case he wants to escape the touch, but stay twined through them. "Which means if you want to stop for chicken nuggets, we can."

Faolan lets out a huff of laughter in response to the other man's words despite himself, and tightens his fingers gently around Lancelot's. Sitting back in his seat and relaxing slightly. He can't help it. Lancelot just seems to have that way with him.

He quirks something of a smile at the other man. "If that is what you truly desire, then I will do my best to make it happen. It's nearly on the way anyway." He tilts his head at the driver slightly, as if to inquire whether he should change their destination to the Market instead of his flat itself.

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