2019-10-30 - Making Up Is Hard To Do

When Itzhak arrives to pick Rebecca up, he's wearing The Suit, elegantly tailored to his height and long limbs. No tie, because he'd remembered what she said about fun not needing a tie. Instead the crisp white shirt is open to show the hollow of his throat. He's not shaven because of course he's not, but he made a token effort to clean up the lines of his semi-beard. And he's wearing his sleek steel-toe boots, of course, but he really makes it work, like it's perfectly natural. His outfit is rounded off with a pair of shiners, blue and green and yellow around his eyes. Those too he rocks as if they're hot accessories. He looks like the rough guy he is, put into a gorgeous suit.

He's driving not Heartbreaker but a big, new pickup with faintly glittery orange paint when he pulls up to the Bayside.

Rebecca steps out of the lobby in pristine minidress that has white embroidered designs which feel a touch art deco, over a nude-illusion fabric. The sleeves, collar, and hem are scalloped, and there is a keyhole opening that dives from throat to sternum. The dress falls to mid thigh, and she has nude pumps on her feet. Her hair has been styled back into a bun, the sides of her hair pulled into twists, with wispy hairs escaping to frame her face. She sees the new truck and looks surprised, but not too surprised. The weather is preparing to turn, he needed to find something to drive in the less Heartbreaker-friendly weather.

She opens the passenger door to climb in. "That suit is quite dashing on you, Itzhak. It brings out the blue in your black eyes." She arches a brow at the injuries to his face.

Itzhak's eyebrows lift when Rebecca walks out. He lets himself admire her, eyes traveling from her adorable hair to her pretty dress to her heels, and back up again. Mmmm legs. Mmmm hips. Mmmmmmmm chest. And that beautiful face, best of all. Which is looking at him dubiously and he laughs, wry.

"That's uh, whaddayacallit. Serendipitous." He opens the passenger side door for her and offers her a hand if she needs it to step up on the running board. He wants to do a lot more than that, but...things are...different. Itzhak's adopting a wait-and-see policy, for as long as he can stand it, at least. "You look fantastic. Like always. Your whole vibe is a work of art, you know?"

The great thing about pickups these days is they come with all the comfortable stuff. The new truck is going to be an easier, cushier ride than Heartbreaker.

Sure the new ride might be smoother and cushier, but it won't be nearly as exciting as the growly Corvette. Rebecca accepts his hand to help get into the truck, and she adjusts her dress as she sits. "This for the shop?" she asks? "Or just the winter vehicle?" She has a little clutch purse in hand and she gives him a chuckle at the comment about her style.

"It's more of a science. Know your skin tone, know your shape, and get everything tailored for your proportions and you will always look sharp whether you're wearing Givenchy or something you picked up at Target." She snaps on her seatbelt and waits for him to get back in.

"So are you going to tell me about the double shiners?" she asks quietly.

"She's gonna do both. Shop truck and she lets Heartbreaker sit the season out. Which I do anyway, but New York, you can take the subway everywhere. I just don't drive in the winter. Here there ain't a decent bus route to speak of." Hope Rebecca wanted to listen to Itz's nervous rambling, since that's what she's going to get.

He swings his lanky ass up into the driver side, then pauses, going still in the way that means something just occured to him. "Maybe I'll call her Marigold."

Then he starts 'er up, and backs out while saying ruefully, "Ain't much to tell. Got in a fight, got my ass kicked. Turns out the other guy's an MMA champion. I'm good but I'm not that good."

Rebecca reaches a hand towards his face as if to touch it, but she hesitates. Things have been, well they've been what they've been since Gohl made her go green with jealousy then suicidal. She puts the hand back in her lap. "An MMA fighter in Gray Harbor? Must not have been a very good fighter then. What caused the fight?"

She fiddles with her purse, because she's noticed the rambling and her own nervousness. He asked to take her out to dinner. In her head that could me one of many things, most of which are of the 'not good' variety.

"As an expert, I'm gonna say he was good." Itzhak sounds bemused. "I'm not used to gettin' my ass kicked that fast or that hard." He always drives the speed limit through the residential areas, even when someone gets impatient behind him, and that's what he continues to do. Gray Harbor's most responsible ex-con. "Eh, over stupid shit that guys fight about. This place is a little ways up the coast, I found it on Yelp. Hope you'll like it. How's by you? How's work?" Hairpin subject change.

Also as always, when the orange pickup turns onto the highway, Itzhak shifts and hits the gas. The truck doesn't have Heartbreaker's instant response, taking a minute to get up to speed, but there's more than enough horsepower. Absently Itzhak creeps up the speedometer needle until they're cruising along about eighty on the empty road.

Rebecca eyes him for a moment at the subject change and she settles back into her seat again. "It's been busy. Had to do quiet a bit of smoothing of ruffled feathers with Vyv's employees who got the short end of the "Gohl makes everyone an asshole" stick. I mean the Chef is a very particular man to begin with, throw ghost rage into the mix and the kitchen crew lived in terror for a while."

She thinks a long moment before she answers in regards to herself. "I'm not sure how I am. How do you reconcile being tainted by some evil ghost you're related to, and doing something so drastic? Did he make me feel like that? Or did he just amp up things I was already feeling?" She purses her lips and looks out her window, watching the scenery fly by at the speed they're going.

Ask him questions about how he got beat up and Itzhak goes all evasive. Ask him questions about murder ghosts and hidden impulses and he answers honestly. "It'd make sense if it was stuff you were already feeling. Hard to whip things like that up out of nowhere, but if they were already there, activation energy's a lot lower." ...Honestly, if awkwardly. Itzhak realizes too late that was probably not an answer that would do Rebecca much good. He glances over, then back at the road. "Not that I'm saying, you wanted to do any of that. None of us wanted to do any of that shit."

That was definitely what Rebecca was afraid of. She rubs a thumb over her forehead, working at the lines that will be there some day from all the stress she lives in. She lets out a breath slowly. "I know I didn't want to die. I was able to fight him on that and stop him part way but the rest?" She can't even look over at him. "I'm sorry about all that."

She keeps her gaze out the window, but she's not really seeing any of the scenery flying by. She's looking inward, trying to sort out what happened, and sort out her feelings.

Itzhak glances worriedly at Bex out of the corner of his eye. Even he can read how very sorry she is. Sorry, and unhappy, and confused. He knows those feels, intimately.

He wants to touch her. Hell, he wants to do a lot more than touch her. Pull the truck over, yank her into his lap, pop the button on top of that keyhole... Whew, down, boy! There's a plan for a reason. Stick to the plan. Step by step.

"It sucked." Back to honesty. "Everything between the minute I stuffed the fucker into my violin case and the funeral sucked. And you... when Hya and me..." Itzhak swallows, mouth flattening. "That sucked most of all."

Rebecca presses her index finger to her lips, willing herself not to cry. She knows how she must have looked. She can't even recall how she ended up in the statue's arms, like the celestial figure was offering up the body to her friends, because there was no place for her among them. Her sins had been too great, her worth too little.

"You found me and saved me. That's the important part. Thank you." The words are sincere, even if she still doesn't dare meet his eyes.

"I'm not ever gonna let you get hurt." Itzhak's voice is quieter, more intense. "Not if I zcan stop it. Never." It'd be easy to take her hand, even just brush her arm, touch her. He doesn't. Her words to him, even though he knows perfectly well that was Gohls' fault, linger somewhere under his heart, festering with hurt.

So much for being a tough guy. But hey, that's why the plan, right? Right.

The drive goes quick at Itzhak's preferred lead-foot speeds, and soon he's turning the truck down a quiet side road. At the end of the road is a lovely old hotel nestled among the cedars. Beyond is nothing but the wild coast and the ocean. Itzhak pulls into the parking lot, kills the engine.

"C'mon," he says, and smiles just a little at Bex, with one corner of his expressive mouth. "This place seemed pretty neat."

He gets out, and gives her his hand to help her step down.

Rebecca remains quiet for the remainder of the drive, lost in thought. Many of those thoughts revolve around this excursion to a fancy restaurant. She's fairly sure he's dumping her, in whatever way a friend with benefits can be dumped, and she cannot blame him one bit for it. She put him through hell. She dragged him into the whole Gohl mess to begin with, which cost him his violin and his safety and sanity. Then she said terrible things to him, and put the burden of saving her life on his shoulders to boot. She'd dump her too.

She accepts the help out of the vehicle, murmuring her thanks, and her eyes sweep up to the old hotel to study it. "It's very nice. Has a lot of character," she admits.

Itzhak's looking at Rebecca, not the hotel. Studying her, in his too-intense way. Her precision and style against the backdrop of the dark forest and the ocean are a gorgeous contrast. In the low light, her skin and hair glow.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, and offers her his arm. Hey, she taught him something.

Rebecca blinks over at him when he calls her beautiful, a bit of color in her cheeks when the compliment catches her by surprise, before she can school her response to it. "You don't look too shabby yourself. Black eyes and all. Do you want me to help that heal quicker? I can't do what Roen can, but I can speed up the process a bit for you."

She looks at his arm a moment, before she takes it. This was not what she was expecting tonight. Maybe he's just trying to let her down very sweetly.

"Nah. I need a reminder every time I look in the mirror not to be an idiot." Itzhak finally smiles down at Bex. His expression is complex, but his body language is quite clear: he's proud to have her on his arm. He's standing straight, shoulders back, head carried high. "It don't hurt, anyway."

The restaurant is nice. Not Chef Vyv levels of 'nice', but certainly nice to just about anyone below that yardstick. It's been updated quite recently, so the decor is pleasing and fashionable. Itzhak had actually made reservations, like he knows what he's doing or something, and they get seated right away. The place isn't busy, or empty. It's just humming right along.

Itzhak is kinda mystified by the place setting, which has significantly more forks than he's used to, but he shrugs. Whatever! A fork's a fork. Then he looks at Bex, which he's doing a whole lot, and his smile is lopsided and soft.

"Hey. Thanks for comin' out with me."

Rebecca is seated and she sets her napkin in her lap. She sees him pondering the plethora of utensils and she gestures. "You work from the outside in. Salad fork on the left, then dinner fork. Dessert fork is sometimes above the plate but most restaurants just bring it with dessert. The knife on the little plate and the plate itself are for your bread. Outside spoon is soup, inner is for whatever on your entree plate may require one, and the inner knife is your dinner knife for cutting meat et all."

At his words though, she pauses. "I admit I was surprised you asked me. After everything."

"Work from the outside in? Pfft, I can handle that." Itzhak sizes up the forks like he'd size up an opponent. "No sweat." He likes a challenge.

He hikes his eyebrows up, surprised, then they tilt, giving him that soulful look. "I mean. It's a lot. But I kinda figured, we never been on an actual date, maybe that'd be a good place to start."

Rebecca picks up her menu and begins to peruse it. She takes note of the rather high prices, for a moment wondering if Itzhak can possibly afford this place. She feels bad about wondering that, and her stomach gets all knotted up. "Well we weren't dating. We'd established that. Are we dating now?" she asks, her brows going up. So many questions she has right now. This is a date. She is on a date. With Itzhak. Despite the hell she put him through.

Itzhak makes a funny Yiddish sound in the back of his throat and tilts a hand back and forth. "I know, I know, I just... I wanted to do something nice for you. Ya been through hell. Kinda we both have. I don't guess hell is gonna stop anytime soon, so." He flips that hand over with a graceful, quick little flourish of long inked fingers. "Figured while we got a minute, we could, yannow." Quieter, leaning towards her, clear hazel eyes on her face, he asks, "Did I figure wrong? I can take you home if you'd rather."

"No, no you don't need to take me home," Rebecca says quietly. "I guess," she purses her lips as she searches for the right words to explain her current mindset, "I'm really confused right now. I'm not entirely sure where we stand. And I have to come to terms with the fact I do have feelings for you that go deeper than just friends with benefits."

She sets the menu down, having made her choices already. "But I don't know if you feel the same, or if that would have a negative effect on your relationship with Isolde or anyone else you may be seeing. I'm fine with sharing, even with romantic relationships, but I can't speak for anyone else."

"Uh." Itzhak freezes, except for eyes going wide and eyebrows popping up. And he blushes, those treacherous capillaries telling his secrets. "Uh, really?" Oh God, his voice might crack. Then one side of his mouth goes up. Then the other, until he's grinning at Bex, crow's-feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "To be real honest? Been tryin' not to let myself catch feelings. You're such an amazing girl, and I thought you wouldn't actually be interested in a guy like me."

The menu goes ignored, and the waitstaff politely acts like they don't know something emotional is going down over there.

"Not everything I said that day was Gohl. I think I am falling in love with you Itzhak. I'm terrified. Absolutely terrified, because of what I went through with Frederick. So I've been fighting it tooth and nail. But after your sacrifice." Rebecca shakes her head and looks down at her silverware, fiddling with it. "I realized you were worth risking the pain for."

Oh yeah. He's blushing, with that rare brilliant grin of his. Rebecca talks of her scumbag ex, though, and Itzhak's eyes narrow.

"I would never do that to you." Itzhak leans forward, eyes intent. "I wouldn't do that to anybody." He pauses, mentally rerunning what she'd just said. "You're...you are?" he murmurs, in awe. "You? God, Bex, you could have any man you wanted."

"I don't want any man, Itzhak. I want you. You're my best friend, my hobby buddy, you understand me, you understand my needs and you don't judge me on any of it. You are kind to me, but you don't let me be a stupid ass either. You give so much, and take so little, but if you want my heart, it's yours." Rebecca says solemnly.

She looks incredibly nervous about it, like she's just laid everything out in front of him, and made herself entirely vulnerable. She could have anyone, but she wants HIM. He's worked through every defense she has, and managed to get inside all her defenses, the walls she usually puts up between herself and lovers.

This was not in the plan!

Itzhak takes in a startled breath. He believes her. He can't not. Seizing her hands, he pulls her knuckles to his lips and kisses them, prickly and soft and tender. Over and over, determined to cover all available terrain with his mouth.

He doesn't know the right words. He'll have to communicate like this, kissing the backs of her hands.

Rebecca blinks at him and his hand kissing. “I-is that a yes? Or are you looking for the words to dump me gently?” she asks, her brows sliding into a position to indicate concern. What is he thinking? What does he want from her. She doesn’t want to invade his mind, she needs him to use his words apparently. “If you can’t because of Isolde or whoever I understand Itzhak. I just need to know, so I know how to act around you.”

"Dump you?" Itzhak says, and laughs low, those crows-feet crinkling. "What? No!" He wraps big calloused hands around hers. "I mean, there's a lot we gotta talk about, and I'm kinda terrified, and I'm not gonna lie to ya, Bex. This shit still hurts. And I'm not so good at bein' a decent boyfriend. I don't have a lot of practice. And--" he frees one hand so he can wave it like 'all that jazz', and rolls that shoulder at the same time: 'ehhhhh'. Words can be difficult, but he's got the Jewish knack for nonverbal gestures.

"That a woman like you could fall in love with a guy like me is a fuckin' miracle." Itzhak presses her fingers to his lips again.

Rebecca looks both relieved and confused. He's not dumping her, but there's a lot to talk about. He's hurting, because of her, but she's a miracle. Still, his lips are caressing her fingers and that seems to indicate to her that this is something they can work at. "Ok. I'm pretty bad at this myself. Feelings and...stuff. And I realize my work schedule is bonkers and that's why I am ok with this being an open thing, you know? I won't be able to be all things to you, but I'd like to be as much as I'm able to be."

"I know you're married to ya work. Wouldn't expect you to not be, or ask you to, that'd be a dick move. Like asking me to give up music." Itzhak doesn't seem to want to let Bex's hand go as he earnestly talks to her, wanting--needing--her to hear him. He's worked up, eyes a little glossy with the traces of unshed tears. It's been a long, long journey from the moment he came to Bex's hospital bed to comfort her. The stress is showing in the lines on his face. Weird that he doesn't seem to care about breaking down a bit in public. That's usually the thing he hates most in life. Something about Rebecca has cracked his usual aggravated armor.

"I can't be everything either, not to you, not to anyone. I'm not a monogamous kinda guy, never have been, even before prison fucked me up. And I am fucked up! I'm fucked up, and...and you know that, you know it real well, and you're here anyway." Itzhak swallows, sniffling back tears, and smiles a brilliant if watery smile. "So does this mean you wanna go out?"

Rebecca is nearly in tears herself, and she listens to him with a serene expression as he says everything she wants to hear but didn’t think she would. Not from him or anyone. She nods quickly at his question but it takes a moment longer to find her voice.

“Yes, I’d like to date, if that’s ok with you. I can’t promise it won’t be an absolute disaster, but I am willing to try. Because you’re worth it, Itzhak.”

Next thing Itzhak knows, he's on his knees, long arms around Bex. How did this happen? He's not sure. It's just a thing that's happening. In the middle of a classy restaurant. Kneeling next to her, he tips his head to get his enormous nose out of the way and kisses her, chaste but passionately adoring. He's going to wrinkle his suit.

"I dunno what I done to make you think that, but ...but I'm not gonna say no. 'Course I wanna date you. I just thought," he nuzzles her with that big ol' schnozz, "you couldn't let people know you game, there was no way you'd want to be seen with some ex-con mechanic with a trashy accent, yannow?"

"Things change," Rebecca murmurs at him, returning his kisses. He's on a knee, no doubt the entire restaurant thinks this is a proposal. "I used to think my image was more important, but then I lost my sister, I lost my own identity, I lost so much, that I've learned what things in my life are truly valuable. And you are far more valuable to me than a stupid mask I wear. I'm still the best personal assistant in the world. I just also happen to have discerning taste in men that most people fail to have." She chuckles happily at him.

Something that Itzhak doesn't realize! All he knows is he really needs to have his arms around Bex and he needs to be so close to her that he can touch the texture of her pretty dress and the warm solidity of her body under the fabric, take in the scent of her and her perfume. Most importantly, so he can hear her up close and personal, listen to her voice and her cadence and her power. Her Song and her words sing to him, a unique music like nobody else in the world.

He sits back so he can see her, grinning so big all his crow's-feet and the lines of a hard life lived on his face show, his hazel eyes bright arcs. "You're a hell of a woman, Bex." The most sincere compliment Itzhak could possibly give her. But now he realizes somehow he's on his knees in front of her, and he goes red. "Dammit. God, I'm the worst. Here I go embarrassin' you already!"

Rebecca grins down at him and leans forward to kiss the tip of his magnificent nose. "Let them think it was a proposal, maybe we'll get a free dessert. Just stand up and say, "She said yes!" and bask in the adulation." She smells like lavender and vanilla, shampoo and body wash most likely. Her inner song is cool and complex, like snowflakes. A million unique concepts, each one perfect in it's own design, falling in concert.

"Oh no." Itzhak goes redder, laughing in embarrassment. "No, no, no! I am not doing that." He can be funny and shy like that. Sure he'll get drunk and sexy at karaoke, but pretending a public proposal is out of his bashful wheelhouse. So he smooches Bex back and climbs into his chair. "Just gonna call this our first date. So order willya? I want to get you fed. 'Cuz I'm gonna make you need, all right." His voice drops low and he quirks an eyebrow at her, expression turning wicked in a flash with a curl to one side o his mouth. "I ain't got my hands on you in way too long."

Rebecca arches a curious brow at his mention of making her need. "We agree on that point." She beckons the waiter over. "I'd like the spinach salad with seared pork belly to start, then the seared duck breast, and a glass of the Maysara 3 Degrees Pinot Noir." She hands the waiter her menu.