the date [tbc]

Who: Evelyn and Ian
Where: Out and about
When: 8pm

His afternoon with Shoshannah had been tedious, but informative and in some ways imperative. He needed the silly girl to think he was her friend, someone who'd never betray her. That way when he did just that, she'd never think to accuse him, or listen to those who might accuse him. The important game of the night was still waiting, strangely enough on the museum steps, for him when he pulled his car up to the block. Even from the bottom of the stairs she was beautiful in the early twilight. Ian had made a very good choice indeed. Climbing the stairs, dressed in one of his best black three piece suits, he greeted her with a bright smile that matched the collection of pink, orange and yellow daisies in her hand. "Amelia."

Evelyn had settled on using her own dress. The colors were a bit odd, gray dominated by a green print with little accents of color, and on the hanger it looked anywhere from odd to unimpressive and for that reason had been so cheap despite the stylish cut. But the combination of colors so odd on the hanger and anyone else were absolutely perfect on Evelyn. In fact, everything about Evelyn and the dress together were perfect. It wasn't fancy and made only from cotton, and the cut while stylish wasn't exactly the norm, and she had gotten it for a very cheap price, but it went with her; it became fun and flirty but with substance, and she looked worth a million bucks in it. She also wore a small pillbox hat that she already owned, but that she wore for more special occasions than her usual beret warranted. What she had bought that day was a short-sleeved high-collared bolero to hide the neck bruising well enough from the onlooking passerby. She had taken Maddy's suggestion on gold jewelry -- well, gold like jewelry -- although it wasn't anything too fancy. The day had been beautiful, but it was still cold and she had on a jacket which, though well kept, she doubted would match the caliber of whatever restaurant Ian chose.

Evelyn smiled graciously when she accepted the flowers, although she internally winced as the fact her date didn't know her name again hit her, "Thank you." She was impressed with the bouquet -- relieved they weren't roses or some color as serious as red -- and took stepped down the remain one or two steps towards him. She tried to keep the smile relaxed and confident as she noted that Ian looked very good in a very good suit, and again wondered if the fact that this dress flattered her so well wouldn't change that it wasn't of expensive taste.

Ian reached out for her helping her down the stairs and pulling her into his arms at the same time. "You look gorgeous," he told her, leaning in to kiss her gently before pulling away and guiding her towards the car. Holding her door open for her Ian waited until she was seated before going around to his side.

Smiling wider from the compliment and the kiss, she again felt almost overwhelmed with how different this was for her, especially date wise. But it certainly wasn't a bad thing, just something that she felt a bit unsure on her feet about even if she didn't show it. Because her usual dates didn't get much fancier than Nighthawks and a movie. And this involved flowers, and escorting down the steps, and opening the door for her to step in to a nice car, and the dashing suit, and some nice Italian restaurant... it was only the beginning, and it seemed more like a date from a movie than what she usually did. And even though Evelyn was working very hard to not let what she was such a silly sentiment get to her head, she wasn't completely unaffected by the picture. When the driver's door open and he slid in, she again appraised him. "You look rather handsome yourself," she complimented, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"I clean up well enough," Ian told her with a smirk. "But I'm still giving you all the credit. You're the one making the statement tonight." It wasn't lost on him that her clothes weren't the nicest, but he could see she tried. That wouldn't be a hard thing to fix though. For someone like Evelyn it would need to start slow, but Ian was confident he could build up her wardrobe easily with little gifts or other items. "Have you been to Luigi's before?" Ian asked as he put the car in gear, headed towards the restaurant.

"I haven't," Evelyn replied, tone collected, dispelling any apprehension related to the fact that she had probably never been to a place even like Luigi's before. She had been to Italian places, yes; Mama Olivieri's was probably some of the best Italian in town; although Evelyn doubted the little, if amazing, hole-in-the-wall was known uptown the same way Luigi's wasn't known at the other end. Hell, she only had heard of Luigi's because as a concierge she had to make reservations there.

"I think you'll like it," he told her, pulling up out front of the restaurant, which wasn't a far drive from the museum at all. As far as high end places went it was still not the highest, but it boasted some of the best food in town, as well as a great band that played most nights. Ian left the car with the valet, moving around it again to escort his date in the building. Inside it was bustling, full of couples in a variety of ages. Although Luigi claimed he wasn't family related, there was no denying most of his crowd was DiGiovanni. But they were the Italians after all, so it made sense that they would flock to this place with dim lighting where it was needed, good food, a stocked wine cellar and an oversized dance floor.

Save for the Drake, it was certainly the nicest restaurant Evelyn had been in. And while the Drake was on a whole other level of luxury, Evelyn was only there for work; that wasn't the case here. She was one of the patrons being served -- well, no, she was aware that she was the date to a patron -- and it was yet another strange thing to experience as Evelyn's coat was removed and checked by the entrance. Although as soon as it was checked and they walked further in and she got a good look at the rest of the patrons she really wished she had been able to keep her jacket. Because regardless of whether it was expensive or not, she looked damn good in this dress -- the one night she had worn it to the dance hall had gotten her plenty of looks she wasn't so humble to not feel warmed by. The coat had offset that though, but now it was gone, and now Evelyn felt very aware of some eyes on her now in a restaurant with DiGiovanni and those associated that she recognized from the Drake. It made her nervous, especially nervous, what with her brother's warnings ringing through her ear.

But she did a nearly flawless job of hiding it; she stilled the reflex to clutch tightly onto Ian's arm and smiled politely at those who passed close by and didn't let herself make eye contact. In fact, she kept her gaze and attention on Ian for the most part and avoided looking too much around unless she had to. "This is a nice place," she complimented. And, aside from the DiGiovanni milling around, it really truly was. And that was the only reason that Evelyn, who actually enjoyed dancing very much, felt her pleasure at noting the dance floor tampered a bit by some apprehension.

Although he seemed distracted, handing off his own coat and dealing with their reservation, Ian was more than conscious of everything about Evelyn. From the dress, that was just a little below the standard here, but at the same time was more flattering than most of the expensive dresses he saw, that she seemed slightly out of her element, but kept it under control. She didn't need to worry though, people here knew him, and if she was with him it was an easy in. They'd accept her if she was wearing nothing more than a burlap sack. Leaning in close he whispered into her ear over the din of the music. "It just got ten times nicer now that you're here." Ian pressed another small kiss along her hair line, marking her as his for those watching. They'd check their stares now, trusting Ian, thinking of him as the nicest of them.

The table was just as he'd requested, a little off from those around it, in a position where someone would have to try to keep a watchful eye on them. The booth was curved around the table, the type that left those sitting at it the opportunity to sit close together or rather far apart. The bottle of wine he'd requested was already on ice next to the table with glasses on the table. "This work for you?" Ian asked with a hopeful tone even though he assumed it would, how could it not?

"It looks great," she replied. It did. Although the out-of-the-way ness above the booth brought both some relief and apprehension. Normally, Evelyn was fine regardless of whether she was in or out of the spotlight; but in a place like this, she damn well understood the value of not attracting too much attention. But Evelyn was also of the opinion that this was a proper, respectable date; and even though Ian hadn't given her any reason to suspect he thought otherwise, she wasn't going to go the route of some of the young girls who came in with the wealthier clientele of the Drake; draping all over them with their bodies pressed obscenely close and otherwise putting their foreplay on display in the booths. She wasn't anti-physical contact, she just needed to build up her comfort level along the way and had more discretion towards what was better suited in public and what was meant for more private settings. So when Evelyn slid into the booth, she placed her purse to the side of her lap so that it would be between her and Ian when he sat down. It didn't push him away to sit too far -- she didn't want that -- but it left enough space that she was comfortable with.

Inwardly Ian smiled at her modesty, giving him that barrier between them to keep him in check. Not that he would have pushed her, he'd already managed to push the envelope of physical contact without going overboard, letting her keep the pace without him seeming uninterested. It was an easy game to play, seduction, even with someone like Evelyn. Smiling he sat next to her, giving ample space between them, and went through the motions of tasting and approving the wine before the waiter left them with menus and full glasses. "What are you in the mood for?" Ian asked her, turning a little so he could see her and setting the menu down without consideration. There wasn't any need to look at it, he already knew what he was getting.

Evelyn did need to look at the menu. And it was a good thing that she had worked at the Drake, a hotel own by an Italian family, and had to answer enough questions about the menu to understand what the hell she was looking at. But as to what she would actually like...? She knew what was popular amongst the patrons of the hotel, but she also knew that most were seduced more by the price tag than display than the actual taste (caviar? Evelyn hadn't been a fan). "How's the chicken marsala?" she asked, figuring that was a safe bet. She liked chicken, it was fancier than looking like an idiot and ordering 'spaghetti and meatballs', and she hadn't grown up on seafood nor become familiar enough with the taste to actually enjoy it.

"Everything's good," Ian told her not taking his eyes off her. In fact, he had no idea, but everyone here seemed to enjoy everything on the menu. For himself he ordered the same thing every time. Food was like that with him. Once he found something he liked? He ordered it without deviation.

"Well I don't think I can order everything," she joked lightly, grinning a little bit, "so I think I'll go with the marsala." Now that they had sat down, and she had a little bit more time to get used to the situation and try to push back all of her life's other worries to the back of her head she felt herself relax a bit against the booth. And as she did so Evelyn now brandished some of that good slightly wry humor she was rather adept at in social situations.

"I'd have been impressed if you could have eaten everything," Ian teased, matching her grin with one of his own. This was what he'd wanted, to see her relax in a way she rarely did at work. It was silly how easily she shifted once pulled out of that situation, as if it made a difference. The waiter chose that moment to appear and take their orders, both of which Ian gave him. The move to order for her wasn't so much to be in charge, but rather to hurry the man on his way, leaving them alone again to sip their wine and get back to cultivating the situation at hand. "I'm glad you said yes," he told her once they were alone, taking a sip of his wine without taking his eyes off of her.

Evelyn couldn't exactly say the same with as much confidence, and it had nothing to do with any lack of affection towards Ian in the matter. Instead it had everything to do with recalling that this wasn't a decision she had made in full control of her emotions, and had gone with despite being intimately aware of all the ways such a situation could get horribly messy. Even though Ian had been nothing but a gentleman, that was always going to be a worry weighing on her. And she hated that it was, that this man who had been so nice and patient and gentlemanly to her was always going to have that slight wariness with him in the back of her mind. She understood it was a bit paranoid, but it didn't change that it was there nonetheless. "Well I'm enjoying myself thus far," she smiled, holding his gaze for a moment before taking a sip of her own wine and ticking her gaze to observe the room. It was true, though. Because regardless of whatever slip of self-control had resulted in her agreeing, she was having a good time.

It wasn't exactly the best answer as far as Ian was concerned, but it was good enough. "I'm glad," he told her, dropping his voice just a little bit, giving it a private feel even though there wasn't a soul around them that could hear what they were saying. The music changed, one song ending and another starting. This one was more of a ballad, something popular but not typically done with the style band that played at Luigi's. Setting down his glass, and taking Evelyn's from her, Ian reached for her free hand. "We should dance."

Evelyn smiled warmly at that, but didn't give him her hand immediately, "Are you asking me?" she admonished lightly. Her tone wasn't pointed, because she wasn't upset with him at all about it. It was just that, Evelyn was a particularly independent person, and Ian wouldn't be the first guy that she had dated; and she knew that -- even if they meant well (and of course there were those that didn't) -- guys could fall easily into assuming or saying what she should do without actually asking. And Evelyn figured it was better to establish that with something small like this than let it continue until it wasn't so harmless.

Ian couldn't help but smile at that independent streak of hers showing through. It was reassuring, that although he didn't get invested in his relationships, he might very well at least enjoy this one. "Will you dance with me?" he asked this time, changing the wording, but not losing his footing or appearing put off by the need in a change.

"Of course," she smiled, placing her hand into his as she gracefully maneuvered her way out of the booth. Some may even had said that Evelyn's family's financial situation came from the wrong side of the tracks, but even as a child she was always naturally poised and put together. And after high school charm classes, Evelyn's situation certainly didn't seem a product of a poor neighborhood.

That was all Ian needed, leading her easily on to the dance floor and settling her comfortably close into his arms. Like most pre-teen boys he'd been forced through weekends of cotillion; Ian had complained appropriately but soaked everything handed his way up. Dancing was an art form, not for the moves or the steps, but with what one could accomplish while dancing. And Ian was a master.

Evelyn actually felt more comfortable with dancing than sitting down in the booth; dancing, she could do; and any silence that might fall didn't feel awkward for her when she could fill the time with moving her feet to the music. And she was confident on a dance floor, because she could move her feet to the music rather well. It had started in the girls' gym classes in high school, and continued with nights out with friends.

Ian appreciated that as well, that she was a good dancer, and confident with it. He pulled her in closer, one arm drifting up her back a little, the other hand twining his fingers with hers, while he moved them along to the music. "It was a good idea wasn't it, dancing?"

Evelyn had to fight the urge to tense when she was pulled closer. It wasn't that he had pulled her in too close, only that wariness she wasn't proud was always lingering in her subconscious. She hated it; she hated how she was letting one hellish experience with a previous employer cast its shadow on this one -- who, she reminded herself -- wasn't going to be her boss for long. And that smile brought a smile to her fix, lifting a little of that anxiety if not all of if it, and she let her fingers flex briefly around his. "It was," she admitted, keeping her focus on the positive -- the way that this all felt surreal but in a good way, the fact that his light grip did feel nice, that being here outside of the Drake made it easier to just appreciate his affection without having to be so guarded.

Ian leaned her out a little, twirling her gently, then pulling her back into his grip. "You have people tell you your beautiful all the time don't you Amelia?"

She laughed lightly a little, "Not all the time, no." Initially Evelyn wasn't sure how to answer that. It was a question that was so easy to sound either conceited or insecure when answering; and despite all the stresses and self-disappointment weighing her down Evelyn didn't consider herself either. She knew she was attractive; she was flirted with and hit on enough at work to highlight that. But, in her mind, there was a bit of a difference between that and something more heartfelt. And she could admit easily enough that a place like the Drake had some girls that were absolutely stunning and who could make Evelyn -- pretty though she was -- slip a bit into the background.

"That's unfortunate," he told her, bringing her in closer again. "I'll have to remedy that." The smirk on his lips was playful, the version of Ian she saw at the Drake relaxing just as she was in the new situation. The game was playing out well, that small laugh from her, that easy smile, all part of the plan. Beyond that though, they were drawing attention, discrete as it was and that was another thing he wanted. Ian, despite no one being able to pin down his family tree properly, was still quite the eligible bachelor in the family. One of the most actually, given his stature, position and the lack of blood staining his hands.

"Well I don't know..." she started, relaxed smile still in her voice, noticing that it had dropped a little lower. Not a bedroom voice, or anything especially sensual, but a little lower and more private, "I think, hearing something like that too often, it lessens the compliment and just makes it flattery."

She did notice some of the attention -- being on the dance floor had relaxed her further date-wise but she had never lost sight of just what type of people were sitting around it. But not being a part of the family and largely ignorant of their politics and matchmaking gossip, she didn't comprehend extent of Ian's bachelor status. Oh, Evelyn was well aware that -- as status went -- he was far out of her league. She didn't need to be a DiGiovanni to know that. Maybe that fact, combined with him being her boss, was what wouldn't let the wariness be completely dispelled. It wasn't that people didn't pay interest in those of significant status below them, only that such interest was usually superficial. But Ian's interest didn't seem superficial, which didn't mean that she expected anything serious for the future. Because despite Hollywood's fascination with the Cinderella story, it was just that: a story. A story that held such fascination because it didn't really happen in the real world, regardless of genuine emotions or not. But that actually did more to take the pressure off as far as Evelyn was concerned. Or maybe it made it easier to ignore the guilty about lying to him if this wasn't headed anywhere so serious.

"I think it would depend on how genuine the person is when they say it," Ian countered, letting the tone of his voice match hers, with just a touch extra. Soft, but lower. Enough to excite and soothe at the same time. He leaned his chin in, just a touch further, to bring her closer in for a kiss, wanting her to come to him to finish it.

On exciting and soothing it succeeded, enough for Evelyn to hover there in indecision for a moment. But in the end, instead of kissing him, she let her head rest lightly upon his shoulder. She wasn't trying to be coy; and she certainly wasn't inexperienced when it came to dating and relationships and physical contact. Just that Evelyn required a certain level comfort between the person and the surroundings to put personal affairs on display. It was different when she was with a familiar boy in the familiarity of her neighborhood or usual hangouts and the people around them were the same people or same types of people she had known since childhood.

This wasn't about insecurity or what people thought for her. She liked the privacy, the intimacy, of keeping aspects of herself close to the chest. It meant something powerful to her: that she had her own affairs, her own behaviors and emotions and quirks, that would only be shared before those of her choosing. The strangers and DiGiovanni faces around them? She refused to choose them.

He let her do it, smirking inwardly at the reserved motion. Still it was enough have her rest her head against him like that. "You are beautiful," Ian told her, with the same tone as before. He held on to her like that until the music stopped and for a second longer before finally pulling away, taking her hand to lead her back to the table.

Evelyn was quiet as they made their way back. Without the dancing, internally she felt a bit more pressure in the silence as she realized that what lay ahead was food and conversation. Normally conversation wasn't a problem; but normally she wasn't lying through her teeth about who she was either. And she realized that, outside of the flirtation and work-related details, she didn't know much else about Ian at all. Normally she was good about not prying into details, but during a date wasn't one of those times. If she was heading towards a relationship with somebody? She sure as hell wanted to know about them -- Evelyn was not trusting enough to not do that. Which was again the problem, wasn't it? Because in asking about one person's background was an implicit agreement to have them ask about yours in turn.

"You're being rather quiet," he told her as they sat. "Everything alright?" Ian reached for his glass of wine, looking concerned and curious at the same time.

"Everything is fine," she smiled reassuringly. It wasn't, really. But she couldn't tell him that, seeing as how none of it was his fault. In fact, he had only been nice to her, and a perfect gentleman, and the date itself could have been one from a movie... and the lies she had spouted were ruining it. Making her feel guilty for every effort and consideration he had taken on his part for a woman who was only lying to him. And what made her feel worse was that, even though she was treating him horribly here, she would only continue to do it. She would try to tell as much truth as possible, but when it came down to it Ian Sullivan was still going to think he was with Amelia Wright by the end of this date. "How did you hear about this place?" Evelyn asked, bringing back that relaxed, joking tone. She knew that Ian was connected to the DiGiovannis. She didn't know how connected, or if he was family or not ('Sullivan' didn't strike her as Italian, after all), but she figured simply being around the DiGiovannis would mean having a good knowledge of the Italian restaurants in town.

"Good," he said. At her question he leaned back resting his elbow on the back of the booth turning a little so he was facing her. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I think I've just been coming here since I was younger. Always liked it, keep coming back." Technically Luigi's had always been a family and a Family joint. More than one aunt or uncle or cousin had brought him over the years. "I came here to celebrate when I got the job at the Drake," he told her. In actuality, they'd brought him here to tell him they wanted him to run the Drake, but that was just semantics.

"And what were you up to before the Drake?" she asked, realizing that she had no idea; and that she really didn't know just how long Ian had been working there.

"School mostly. I worked a few other jobs here and there. Mostly office stuff. I worked at the Drake at the front desk before I got promoted to hotel manager." Ian shrugged, as if his past was completely uninteresting, even if that wasn't the case at all. In fact most of his youth had been a complicated series of events leading him to where he was now.

A part of her noted his tone; how the office and front desk work were just a unimpressive detail in a normal background. When Rebbecca and she had found the job openings at the lawyer's office it had been a Big Deal, worthy of celebratory party with friends even though she was only moving on to the other side of the city (which actually had proven a significant distance than she had initially thought). It was partly why getting a job as a waitress had felt like such a comedown. But it wasn't an observation Evelyn made with any judgment attached to it, she talked about her various jobs such as at the grocer's in the same manner and there were probably people at there who would've thought having a job like that (or at all) to be something. She smiled, even, before asking, "A whole life before working at the Drake, and you've managed it in one sentence?"

Ian returned her smile with a shyer one and a small shrug of his shoulders. "It's not that interesting of a life. My mom wasn't really around, so I spent most of my life being shuffled between Aunts and Uncles. It really wasn't until I started at the Drake a while back that I really had a story worth telling." He extended the arm leaning against the booth, reaching out to brush his fingers against her hairline. "What about you? Where were you before you made my days so bright?"

Evelyn took a sip of her wine, trying to keep a straight, poised face at the question. It wasn't that she hadn't received such compliments before -- but such flattering questions usually came in the form of a cheesy pick-up lines that stopped after she agreed to the date. It was another thing that was different from her normal, but again wasn't unpleasant. "Not going to school," she admitted, trying to reign in both her apprehension at answering personal questions and the fact she hadn't gone to a college was still a sore point in her life, "living with roommates, working odd jobs, and knowing too much about how to store and stock groceries than any person should." She smiled, not letting it tell of all the things beneath the surface.

"You worked in a grocery store?" Ian asked with a smile. "How was that?" Typical teenager jobs had never been an option for Ian. There were relationships that needed to be cultivated with adults, and just because he was a teenager didn't meant he could avoid working on those relationships.

Evelyn shrugged, "The people are who come in can be interesting. But the job itself...? It could make the front desk seem gloriously exciting." She smiled a bit before another small sip of wine. "Although -- speaking of jobs, I've been a looking and may have a couple of interviews by Wednesday." The smile widened, into a small grin, as she put the glass down. Amidst her time spent shopping and getting ready for tonight she had combed the newspaper classifieds and noted 'Help Wanted' signs in windows. But Evelyn wasn't desperately hopping onto any opening. The Drake may have been owned by the mob, but Evelyn knew damn well an employer didn't have to be mob-affiliated to be horrible. And, as the encounter with Zhen still lingered despite herself, maybe a part of her was looking for something she wanted to do.

"Oh, anything in particular?" The information would be more than interesting to Ian, as he'd need to thwarted that move as quickly as it came up. "I still wish you weren't leaving," he said somberly as their food arrived.

"Not in particular, no," Evelyn replied before taking the first bite of her marsala. Actually, there was one that had stuck out to her, but she didn't like to share plans -- especially ones she really wanted to go be successful -- when nothing was certain. If they fell through it just made the letdown harder because there was the added weight of sharing that news with someone else -- especially if her plans had gotten somebody else's hopes up as well. Ian had already expressed his wish for her not to leave, but her family... The next time she saw them especially Jesse) she wanted to be able to tell them that she had a new job. Not she might have found a new job only to risk taking it back if that fell through. "Well," Evelyn started, trying to sound reassuring, "at least we can thank the job search for the date." And if there was a hint of playfulness smile there, it was artfully hidden again by the tilted wine glass.

"At least we have that," Ian echoed with a smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek. As always his primavera was good, but he'd expect nothing less from Luigi. He wondered how things would go, when she didn't get the other job, if she'd fight them dating more. How far he'd need to push things tonight to ensure she was willing to go out with him again before she got her new job. Still those were bridges that would need to be crossed later, for now he just need to make sure tonight went well. When she put her glass back down Ian reached to refill it, his as well.

Evelyn smiled, although she didn't say anything as she preoccupied herself with the food. It was delicious. She couldn't help indulging in some contented bemusement as she watched other patrons at the table and the dance floor, musing about how this was her second Italian dish in less than a week. That in itself was different -- Evelyn doubted her family had one drop of Italian blood in their veins -- and it was remarkable how different the circumstances and settings were that accompanied each dinner. Thinking of it now, she couldn't help feeling it was remarkable really, to have such different experiences in such a short period of time... and musing on it left her feeling... warmer, somehow. Pleasant. ...Or maybe that was the wine kicking in.

Ian dug into his meal as well, watching her out of the corner of his eye while she ate. Things were lining up nicely even if she wasn't talking much at all. Ian did have to wonder if she was much of a talker anyway. While women like Dolores were gossips, Evelyn was the type to keep things close to her chest, and no speak ill of others unless necessary. She was in fact a worthy adversary, a far more interesting challenge then the normal women he courted. "How is it?" he finally asked after a moment.

[tbc]